Sybbie grasped her brown teddy in her arms, standing outside with her family and the servants. She may have thought herself a 'big girl', but could turn mute and become extremely shy with a snap of a finger.
A black car drove down the gravel, and Sybbie clutched the teddy tighter. She saw a figure in the back window, and she gulped. This person, whom was called Isobel Crawley, was coming to visit. Apparently she was Sybbie's grandmother.
Tom had told her that Isobel had left when she was a nearing the age of 4. George wasn't quite 2 years, and Marigold, well she hadn't been brought to the house yet.
Isobel stepped out of the automobile and smiled. She greeted all of the adults first, and then moved over to the children. She started with Sybbie.
"My, my! Haven't you grown! Last time I saw you, you were up to my knees! Now your past my waist! Sybbie, you're such a young lady now!" She exclaimed.
Sybbie smiled shyly.
"He-hello." She stuttered.
Isobel greeted George next.
"George! Such a handsome young lad now! When I was still here, you could barely even talk! Has anybody told you how much you look like your father?" She said.
"Mama always talks about how much I resemble him!" George said proudly.
Finally, Isobel made her way to Marigold. She studied her for a moment, glancing at Edith. Nobody had told Isobel the story.
"Hello there! You must be Marigold. You can call me Grandmama, or Granny, or anything you'd feel comfortable with. How old are you, sweet girl?" She questioned.
"I'm 7 years old." She whispered.
"You look so much like your mama!" She said happily, with some suspicion in her voice.
Marigold looked puzzled.
"Doesn't every girl look like her mummy?" She said quietly.
"Why yes, but your adopted, aren't you?" Isobel asked.
"Yes, but I look like my mummy. That's it." She said simply.
Isobel nodded and looked at Edith. Her cheeks flushed pink, but she smiled as if nothing happened.
What was going on?