“Do you know—when—whether they will find out this morning?” said Margaret, catching her dress nervously, as she was moving away.
“Yes, I believe so. I was not to have told you, but—”
“There is no reason that it should do me any harm,” said Margaret, almost smiling, and looking as if she was putting a restraint on something she wished to say. “Go down, dear Ethel—Aubrey will be waiting for you.”
Ethel went down to the difficult task of hearing Aubrey’s lessons, while Harry was pretending to write to Mrs. Arnott, but, in reality, teaching Gertrude the parts of a ship, occasionally acting mast, for her to climb.
By and by Dr. May came in. “Margaret not downstairs yet?” he said.
“She is dressed, but will not come down till the evening,” said Ethel.
“I’ll go to her. She will be pleased. Come up presently, Ethel. Or, where’s Richard?”
“Gone out,” said Harry. “What, is it anything left to her?”
“The best, the best!” said Dr. May. “Ethel, listen—twenty thousand, to build and endow a church for Cocksmoor!”
No need to bid Ethel listen. She gave a sort of leap in her chair, then looked almost ready to faint.