Then when once I was in London,"
said Jock, as if his foot was on his native heath, "of course I knew
what to be at."
"Have you had nothing to eat?"
"We had each a bun when we got out at Charing Cross, but I'm awfully
hungry, mother!"
"I should think so. Janet, my dear, go and order some breakfast for
them."
"And," said Janet, "must not the others be dreadfully frightened
about them at Kyve?"
That question startled her mother into instant action.
"Of course they must! Poor Clara! poor Allen! They must be in a
dreadful state. I must telegraph to them at once."
She lifted Armine off gently to her bed, scarcely disturbing him,
twisted up her hair in summary fashion, and the dress, which her
friends had dreaded her seeing, was on, she hardly knew how, as she
bade old nurse see to Jock's washing, dressing, and making himself
tidy, and then amazed the other ladies by running into the drawing-
room crying breathlessly—-
"I must telegraph to the Actons," and plunging to the depths of a
drawer in the davenport.
"Caroline, your cap!"
For it was on the back of the head that had never worn a cap before.
And not only then, but for the most part whenever they met, those
tears and caresses, that poor Mother Carey so much feared, were
checked midway by the instinct that made Aunt Ellen run at her with a
great pin and cry—-
"Caroline, your cap.
Pages:
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72