"DO make haste, Lucy; how slow you are!" exclaimed Beryl Hollys, as she impatiently shook the long, silken tresses, which her maid was carefully brushing. "Papa will be here before you have done my hair, I do believe." "You need not be afraid of that, Miss Beryl," answered the maid quietly; "for Andrew has only just driven out of the yard, and it's a good three miles to the station. Master can't possibly be here yet awhile."…
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