’Byo, bye! baby bye! 
Byo, bye, little baby! 
Byo, byo, byo, byo’—­

‘Where are you, Byo dear?’ she said, opening the door.  Then stopped short in undoubted surprise.  ‘Mr. Rollo!—­You two!’ she said, looking from one to the other; adding mentally, ’And you have been talking about me!’

It was not just a pleased flush that came; and it was with a little needless straightening of herself up that Wych Hazel crossed the floor, and untying her apron of flowers laid it down on Mrs. Bywank’s sofa.  Then she was the lady of Chickaree again, graceful and composed.  She came back and held out her hand.

‘I hope your luncheon is ready, Byo?’ she said; ’and that you have something very good to reward Mr. Rollo for his long waiting.  I had no idea I was delaying any one but you, or I should have made more haste.  Mrs. Bywank spoils me, Mr. Rollo, by giving me just the same welcome whether I come early or late.  But I am very sorry if I have hindered you.’

‘You have not hindered me,’ he said smiling, and giving her hand the old sort of clasp,—­’except from everything I have tried to do, for some time past.’

But that idea Miss Wych did not see fit to take up.

‘What have I done,’ he went on audaciously, ’to be ignored in this fashion?’

‘Ignored!’ she said, opening her eyes at him.

‘Will you substitute another word?’ said he, looking for it in the orbs so revealed.  Wych Hazel turned off.

‘Will you come to luncheon, sir?’ she said; so exactly as if she were speaking to Mr. Falkirk, that Mrs. Bywank looked up in mute amazement.

But lunch was not to have much attention, nevertheless.  Dingee began a raid on the housekeeper’s room.  It was: 

‘Mas’ Nightingale, Missee Hazel.’

‘Mas’ May and—­Miss May, ma’am.—­’

‘Mrs. Powder, Missee Hazel—­and all de rest!’ added Dingee. ’ ‘Spect dere ain’t a livin’ soul won’t be there, time I get back.  Miss Fisher, she done ask for Mas’ Rollo.  But I’se learnin’ to tell the truf fustrate.’

‘What is the truth about me, Dingee?’ asked that gentleman.  ’I should be glad to hear it.’

‘Well, sir,’ said Dingee, standing attention, ’she ’quire ‘bout you.  So I say, “Mas’ Rollo, he done come dis mornin’, sure,—­but my young mistiss she out.  So he done gone straight away from de door, ma’am.”  Mighty glad she never ask which way!’ added Dingee with a chuckle.  Wych Hazel held down her head, laughing the sweet laugh which would come now and then, in the worst of times.

‘Run away,’ she said, ’and say I am coming.  I must go, Byo—­if Mr. Rollo will excuse me.  And as he came to see you, I suppose he will!’

But Mr. Rollo went away without his luncheon, after all.

CHAPTER XXXV.

FIGURES AND FAVOURS.