Augusta showed two rows of toothless gums. Milk evidently should be her diet.
“Well, for goodness’ sake keep quiet. I will come back as soon as I possibly can,” and with this farewell, Miss Prudence descended. Alas! poor woman, dark as were her forebodings, she little knew what was to be faced, nor how difficult she would find the execution of her simple and excellent plan for the temporary concealment of Augusta.
CHAPTER VIII.
A CAREER OF DECEPTION.
Never did a placid, good-natured woman, habitually truthful, unaccustomed to all save the shallowest of plots, unused to taking the initiative, and indeed, preferring to depend on the advice of others, find herself in a more unpleasant predicament than did Miss Prudence Semaphore. That her dilemma originated in no fault of her own, served in no wise to console her. To a certain extent she rose to the situation and decided, with a promptitude that for her was marvellous, on a course of action, but she longed for some friendly soul to whom she could tell her difficulties, and whose counsel she could seek. Happily, perhaps, for the keeping of her secret, she had to bear her own burden in silence, and take all the responsibility on her own weak shoulders.
A very pale and tremulous Miss Prudence appeared at the breakfast table on the morning of the tragedy related in our last chapter.
“Dear, dear! How ill you look!” was the medical lady’s cheerful greeting. “Have you had a bad night?”
Miss Prudence admitted that she had.
“And your sister?—How late she is to-day. She is generally one of the first down.”
“She is not very well this morning, and I persuaded her to stay in bed,” said Prudence, colouring to the eyes, as she embarked on her career of falsehood.
“Very wise of you; she had much better breakfast in her room if she is feeling ill. There is some nice kedgeree she might like.”