Whereon, there being no further cause for the detaining of Louise Denny above ground, she was elegantly and expeditiously buried.
The whole school attended the funeral. The flowers required a second carriage, and for the first time in his life, Mr. Denny was genuinely proud of his daughter. He did not believe that his own death could have extracted more lavish tributes from the purses of his acquaintances.
Clare Hartill, writing a card for her wreath of incredible orchids, did not regret her extravagance. After all—one must keep up one's position.... There would certainly not be such another wreath in the churchyard.... How Louise would have exclaimed over it! Poor child.... It was all one could do for her now. Clare hesitated, pen arrested—"With deepest sympathy." It was not necessary to write anything more.... Her name was printed already.... But Louise would have liked a message.... After all, she had been very proud of Louise....
She reversed the card, and wrote, almost illegibly, in a corner, "Louise—with love. C. H." She paused, lips pursed. Sentimental, perhaps? Possibly.... But let it go....
Hastily she impaled her card on its attendant pin, and thrust it, print upward, among the flowers. The message was for Louise; no one else need see it.
Alwynne, too, sent flowers. But as usual she had spent all but a fraction of her salary. Seven and sixpence does not make a show, even if the garland be home-made. The shabby wreath was forgotten among the crowd of hot-house blooms. It lay in a corner till the day after the funeral. Then the housemaid threw it away.
So Louise had no message from Alwynne.
By the end of a fortnight Louise was barely a memory in the school. A month had obliterated her entirely.
Yet her short career and sudden death had its influence on school and individual alike. Miss Marsham had had her lesson; she began to make her preliminary preparations for giving up her head mistress-ship, and selling her interest in the school; though it was the following spring before she began to negotiate definitely with Clare, on whom her choice had finally fallen. She would not be hurried; she would not appear anxious to settle her affairs; but she had determined, between regret and relief, that the next summer should be the last of her reign.
Henrietta, though her anxieties were abated by the turn affairs had taken, was still doubtful whether Miss Marsham were as blindly reliant upon her as usual. But, though feeling her position still somewhat insecure, her spirits had risen, and her natural love of interference had risen with them. She could not forget her conversation with Miss Hartill: an amazing conversation—a conversation teeming with suggestions and possibilities.... Of course, Miss Hartill had had no idea, poor distracted woman, of how skilfully Henrietta had drawn her out.... Henrietta felt pleased with herself. Without once referring to Miss Hartill, she could follow out her own plans as far as Miss Durand was concerned.... Later, Miss Hartill might remember that apparently innocent conversation and realise that Henrietta had stolen a march on her.... Yet, though she might be loyally angry, for her friend's sake, she could not do anything to cross Henrietta's arrangements ... could not wish to do anything, because essentially, if reluctantly, she had approved them, had recognised that it was time to curtail Miss Durand's activities....