Free The Secret of Greylands by Annie Haynes Page A

you a little—”
    Her cousin turned her head away.
    â€œNo! No! Not you—Henry!”
    At this moment, to Cynthia’s great relief, she heard Gillman’s step in the passage. He threw the door open.
    â€œYou were ringing?” he said. “Is there anything the matter?”
    â€œI am afraid Cousin Hannah is worse,” Cynthia said desperately. “I—she will not let me do anything for her.”
    Gillman gave one look at his wife’s face, then laid his hand on her arm.
    â€œCome, this will not do, Hannah!” he said quietly. “You know the harm you may do if you over-excite yourself.” Then he turned to Cynthia. “You had better go downstairs; she will become quieter alone with me.”
    Something in his tone forbade argument, and Cynthia obeyed in silence. She heard Gillman lock the door behind her and caught the echo of her cousin’s voice; then she went slowly back to the dining-room.
    There Sybil found her when, half an hour later, she ran downstairs.
    â€œCousin Hannah was rather tiresome to-night, was she not?” she questioned, perching herself on the arm of Cynthia’s chair. “Now I suppose she will keep Cousin Henry with her for hours; nobody can manage her like him, and he is so wonderfully patient with her.”
    â€œYes, he seems very kind,” Cynthia acquiesced slowly. “He—he is very unlike what I expected.”
    Sybil bubbled into airy laughter as she patted the cheek next to her with one pink finger.
    â€œOh, you are a funny girl, Cynthia! I—really I shall begin to think you are quite deep.”

Chapter Six
    â€œC OME for a walk this morning, Sybil?”
    â€œCan’t!” Sybil playfully shook the flour from her hands in Cynthia’s face. “I am going to make a pudding for dinner. There! You didn’t know I was so domesticated, did you?”
    Cynthia looked at her dispassionately.
    â€œI do not expect it will be much of a pudding! You had better come, Sybil.”
    Sybil pouted, as with pursed-up lips she measured out a portion of butter.
    â€œRude person. No, it is no use teasing, Cynthia. I am going to make a great culinary success to-day, and you will not persuade me to put it aside even to frivol with you.”
    â€œWell, if you are really determined—” With a shrug of her shoulders Cynthia resigned herself to the inevitable. She turned from the big, old-fashioned kitchen to the open door leading into the neglected garden beyond. Notwithstanding the tangled growth of grass, the moss upon the walks, it looked very pretty in the bright sunlight, she thought. Coaxed out by the warmth, here and there a brightly coloured tulip was peeping forth. At the edge of the long, narrow borders the blue forget-me-not and the hardy London Pride were beginning to raise their heads. Farther away, over the tall hedge, she caught a glimpse of the flowering cherry-trees in the orchard. She drew a long breath of the delicious fresh air. “I think it is much too lovely to stay indoors, even to cook. You are very tiresome, Sybil! I wonder”—as a loud howl from the distance reached her—“whether I might take Spot?”
    â€œYou will have to take him on the lead if you do,” Sybil responded as, having secured all her ingredients, she began to mix them together with a vigour that spoke volumes for the strength of the muscle in her white, shapely arms. “There he is,” she added, with a backward jerk of her head at the wall. “He will tear back to Cousin Hannah’s room if you don’t, and he does worry her so.”
    Cynthia took the lead down doubtfully.
    â€œI don’t suppose he would follow me without, but he won’t like it much, poor little dog!”
    She went slowly round the house to the out-buildings; as Spot saw her coming towards him his howling changed to noisy demonstrations of joy. He sprang on his hind legs and tried to lick her