“Things seem just to slide out of my hands,” said Peggy; “and I can’t remember which drawer the things go in.”
There was a cupboard where Alice’s dolls were to live, and it interested her greatly to get this apartment ready for them. So they all again forgot about Lady Jane Grey until supper-time. Their mother put bowls of milk on the table for the children, with plenty of bread and jam; and there was a big saucer of milk for Lady Jane, warmed just the way she liked it. Again they called her, but she did not come. Peggy made a trip down cellar, thinking she might have hidden there, and she hunted the house from top to bottom, but there was no dainty Lady Jane to be seen.
“She’ll come back sometime,” said their mother; but the children were not so sure of this.
It seemed sad to go to bed without knowing what fate had befallen Lady Jane; but their mother was sure she would come back that night.
In the morning Peggy ran downstairs eagerly before she was dressed.
“Has she come, mother?” she asked.
“Has who come?” said her mother, whose mind was on starting the kitchen fire.
“Lady Jane.”
“No, she hasn’t come.”
“And it is so wet,” said Peggy, as she looked at the falling rain; “she’ll get drenched without any rubbers or raincoat.”