“Cyril’s letter? Oh, no doubt! If you knew the posts in France, my word!”
Then they determined, with little sighs, to face the crisis cheerfully.
In truth it was a crisis, and a great one. The sensation of the crisis affected the atmosphere of the entire house. Constance got up for tea and managed to walk to the drawing-room. And when Sophia, after an absence in her own room, came down to tea and found the tea all served, Constance whispered:
“She’s given notice! And Sunday too!”
“What did she say?”
“She didn’t say much,” Constance replied vaguely, hiding from Sophia that Amy had harped on the too great profusion of mistresses in that house. “After all, it’s just as well. She’ll be all right. She’s saved a good bit of money, and she has friends.”
“But how foolish of her to give up such a good place!”
“She simply doesn’t care,” said Constance, who was a little hurt by Amy’s defection. “When she takes a thing into her head she simply doesn’t care. She’s got no common sense. I’ve always known that.”
“So you’re going to leave, Amy?” said Sophia that evening, as Amy was passing through the parlour on her way to bed. Constance was already arranged for the night.
“I am, m’m,” answered Amy, precisely.