“Leaving!”
“Seems like it—she’s been packing all the morning.”
“Because of that letter business?”
“Oh, I dunno. Anyhow there’s some story of some friend of Fräulein’s travelling through to Besançon to-day and Mademoiselle’s going with her and we’re all to take solemn leave and she’s not coming back next term. Come on.”
Mademoiselle, radiantly rosy under her large black French hat, wearing her stockinette jacket and grey dress, was standing at the end of the schoolroom table—the girls were all assembled and the door into the hall was open.
The housekeeper was laughing and shouting and imitating the puffing of a train. Mademoiselle stood smiling beside her with downcast eyes.
Opposite them was Gertrude with thin white face, blue lips and hotly blazing eyes fixed on Mademoiselle. She stood easily with her hands clasped behind her.
She must have an appalling headache thought Miriam. Mademoiselle began shaking hands.
“I say, Mademoiselle,” began Jimmie quietly and hurriedly in her lame French, as she took her hand. “Have you got another place?”
“A place?”