“‘Please, Mrs. Harby, Miss Harby says will you send her another school pinafore for Miss Brangwen, because she’s come without one.’”
“Yes, miss,” muttered the boy, head ducked, and was moving off. Miss Harby caught him back, holding him by the shoulder.
“What are you going to say?”
“Please, Mrs. Harby, Miss Harby wants a pinny for Miss Brangwin,” muttered the boy very sheepishly.
“Miss Brangwen!” laughed Miss Harby, pushing him away. “Here, you’d better have my umbrella—wait a minute.”
The unwilling boy was rigged up with Miss Harby’s umbrella, and set off.
“Don’t take long over it,” called Miss Harby, after him. Then she turned to Ursula, and said brightly:
“Oh, he’s a caution, that lad—but not bad, you know.”
“No,” Ursula agreed, weakly.
The latch of the door clicked, and they entered the big room. Ursula glanced down the place. Its rigid, long silence was official and chilling. Half-way down was a glass partition, the doors of which were open. A clock ticked re-echoing, and Miss Harby’s voice sounded double as she said: