CHAPTER XVIII.
ELEANOR AND I ARE LATE FOR BREAKFAST--THE SCHOOL BREAKS UP--MADAME ANDBRIDGET.
Eleanor and I overslept ourselves one morning. We had been tired, andwhen we did get up we hurried through our dressing, looking forward tofines and a scolding to boot.
But as we crept down-stairs we saw both the Misses Mulberry and Madameconversing together on the second landing. We felt that we were"caught," but to our surprise they took no notice of us; and as we wentdown the next flight we heard Miss Mulberry say, with a sigh,"Misfortunes never come alone."
We soon learnt what the new misfortune was. Poor Lucy had been takenill. The doctor had been to see her early that morning, and hadpronounced it fever--"Probably scarlet fever; and he recommends theschool being broken up at once, as the holidays would soon be hereanyway." So one of the girls told us.
Presently Miss Mulberry made her appearance; and we sat down tobreakfast. She ate hers hurriedly, and then made a little speech, inwhich she begged us, as a personal favour, to be good; and if it wasdecided that we should go, to do our best to get our things carefullytogether, and to help to pack them.
I am sure we responded to the appeal. I wonder if it struck Madame, atthis time, that it might be well to trust us a little more, as a rule? Iremember Peony's saying, "Madame told me to help myself to tea. I mighthave taken two lumps of sugar, but I did not think it would be right."
We were all equally scrupulous; we even made a point of speaking inFrench, though Madame's long absences from the school-room, and thepossibility of an early break-up for the holidays, gave both opportunityand temptation to chat in English.
On Monday evening at tea, Miss Mulberry made another little speech. Thedoctor had pronounced poor Lucy's illness to be scarlet fever, and wewere all to be sent home the next day. There were to be no more lessons,and we were to spend the evening in packing and other preparations.
We were very sorry for poor Lucy, but we were young; and I do not thinkwe could help enjoying the delights of fuss, the excitement ofresponsibility and packing, and the fact that the holidays had begun.
We were going in various directions, but it so happened that we allcontrived to go by the same train to London. Some were to be droppedbefore we reached town; one lived in London; and Eleanor and I had towait for half-an-hour before catching a train for the north.
For I was going to Yorkshire. The Arkwrights had asked me to spend theholidays with Eleanor. There was now nothing to be done but for us togo up together, all unexpected as we were.
How we packed and talked, and ran in and out of each other's rooms! Itwas late when we all got to bed that night.
Next morning the railway omnibus came for us, and with a curious senseof regret we saw our luggage piled up, and the little gate of Bush Houseclose upon us.
As we moved off, Bridget, the nosegay-woman, drew near. Madame (who hadshed tears as she bade us adieu) opened the gate again, ran out, criedshrilly to the driver to stop, and buying up half Bridget's basketful atone sweep, with more tears and much excitement, flung the flowers inamongst us. As she went backwards off the step, on to which she hadclimbed, she fell upon Bridget, who, with even more excitement and Ithink also with ready tears, clung to the already moving omnibus, andturned her basket upside down over our laps.
I have a dim remembrance of seeing her and Madame seem to fall over eachother, or into each other's arms; and then, amid a shrill torrent offarewells and blessings in French and Irish, the omnibus rolled on, andBush House was hid from our eyes.