She did not expect to sleep much, the situation being so strange and the day such an exciting one. But scarcely was her head comfortably settled on the pillow than she was off.
One o’clock was a late hour for Beth Baldwin to be awake. Therefore, the early morning stir upon the boat—even its stopping at several small landings—did not arouse her. But a fist pounding vigorously on the door of Number 53 did finally awaken her.
“Beth Baldwin! Beth Baldwin! For the sake of goodness! Do you die at night and have to be resurrected every morning?”
“Is—is that you, Molly Granger?” yawned Beth.
“It is. Get up!”
“Isn’t it dreadfully early?”
“No. It’s only cloudy. The day is broke, my child—dead broke, by the looks of it, I should say. A nasty day! and I so wanted it to be nice.”
Beth had reached down and was fumbling at the key in the lock. Now she turned it and Molly bounced in.
“Well! you lazy girl!” cried Miss Granger, who was fully dressed. “You’ll learn to get up more promptly than this at Rivercliff. Miss Hammersly believes in early hours. So does the madam.”
“I did not go to sleep till after the boat left Marbury,” said Beth, yawning frankly again.