‘Does Micky mean he won’t ever come back again?’ asked Kitty, with painful anxiety, as Emmeline screwed up the paper into a little ball, and began pacing up and down the room.
Emmeline did not seem to hear, so Kitty repeated the question in a voice which sounded as though she were on the point of bursting out crying out again.
‘No, of course not, you silly child,’ said Emmeline, impatiently. ‘At least, it doesn’t matter what he means—he won’t be allowed to, anyhow. Kitty,’ she added penitently, ‘I didn’t mean to be cross, only I’m so frightfully worried. It’s dreadful to think where Diamond Jubilee may be taking Micky to!’
‘I wish we’d never met Diamond Jubilee!’ moaned Kitty.
‘So do I,’ agreed Emmeline from the bottom of her heart; ‘but the question now is what to do about Micky.’
‘I suppose it would be betraying to tell any of the grown-up people when he says I’m not to?’ said Kitty, doubtfully.
‘I don’t know,’ said Emmeline. Her four years of seniority made her view things rather differently, but she had her own reasons for being even more unwilling than Kitty to show Micky’s letter to any of the elders. ‘No, I think we’d much better not say anything yet,’ she added, after a moment’s thought. ‘It’s not as if Aunt Grace were here, or even Miss Miller. But it’s only the servants, and they can’t care so very much’—she was doing them great injustice—‘and it would only make a horrible fuss and worry them dreadfully. It will be much best for them not to know where Micky has gone till he’s safe back again.’
‘But how are we going to get him safe back again?’ demanded Kitty, in a woeful voice.
‘I’m going into Eastwich myself this afternoon to fetch him home,’ said Emmeline, with studied coolness, though her heart was beating fast at the thought of taking such an unheard-of step on her own responsibility.