You Think I Won't Talk?

"Oh, I-I see..." — Theressa responded, lowering her head as the surprise faded. — "Umh... Then... Is she not ailing?"

"... She is not."

"..... Umh, Father?"

"Yes?"

"I am aware it has no relation with my Sister’s whereabouts yet... uh... C–can sister do embroidery?"

"Hm. I doubt it." — Seriously answering his child, Orland made her resume her steps that with concern had halted once more.

"... I see..."

"... Marianne doesn’t embroider that I know of. She enjoys her noons more while making her wonderful sketches after all."

"Right. Sister draws in that tool... Although it is not meant for a Lady..."

"I wonder about such convictions. We all have hands and can use them for the same... Nonetheless, Theressa... I see you had a wish to meet your sister today."

"....."

The silence from his youngest was kept for the leftover steps of the stairs and as they came to pause as both were going different ways, Orland’s eyes softened as he could see in his child’s reluctant regret within her hush.