Mrs. Harrington held out a piece of notepaper, evidently a sheet that was on the writing-table, for it bore the Harrington crest upon it, and the address, "The Hall, Douglas Cross."
In shaky writing across it, were these words:
"My thanks to the yong ladies. A very good nite."
Freda looked at Daffy, and Daffy looked at Freda.
"Speak," said their mother sharply. "What have you been doing?"
"May we tell you alone, Mums?" said Freda. "Nurse doesn't understand. We did get the bedroom ready for him, and told him how to get to it, but—"
"There, ma'am," said Nurse angrily. "Now what do you think of that? They're beyond me altogether! It's a mercy we were not all murdered in our beds!"
"You had better give them their breakfasts and send them to me. I must get to the bottom of it. Those Sheffield plate candlesticks and ivory trinket boxes are a real loss. I shall have to put it into the hands of the police."
Mrs. Harrington left the room as she spoke, and then ensued a very bad half-hour for Freda and Daffy. Nurse could scold like nobody else. They were only allowed dry bread for their breakfast, and were not allowed to speak to one another. When they were sent to their mother's room, Freda carried a little box under her arm; she was defiant, Daffy indifferent. Nurse's scoldings had always that effect on them.
"Mums won't scold like Nurse; we couldn't hear anything worse," Daffy said, as they walked along the passages to their mother's room.