Mary shuddered as she listened, for she knew far better than Emmeline herself what a risk the child had run.
‘Thank God nothing worse happened than your watch being stolen!’ she exclaimed from the bottom of her heart when she had heard the whole story. ‘That’s very grieving, though. But maybe the police will be able to get it back for you.’
‘Do you really think the police will get me back my watch?’ cried Emmeline.
‘Well, you mustn’t reckon on it, but I can’t help hoping they may,’ said Mary. ‘And now, my darling, I must be going, for Master Micky’s case will be getting over, and I must go and hear how the poor lamb got on.’
‘You’ll come back and tell me as soon as ever you know anything, won’t you?’ pleaded Emmeline.
‘I expect your aunt will want to come herself, dear, but if she doesn’t, I certainly will,’ answered Mary.
‘Aunt Grace!’ exclaimed Emmeline. ‘Why, she isn’t here. She’s in London!’
‘She’s here now,’ said Mary. ‘Miss Miller telegraphed for her yesterday evening, and when she reached home, about two o’clock this morning, she found a telegram from George to say that both you and Micky were at Eastwich, and that you had had an accident. So she came back here by the seven o’clock train.’
‘How dreadfully tired she must be!’ exclaimed Emmeline. ‘And how could she leave her friend?’