There was no answer, but to her excited nerves the whole place seemed full of half-heard whisperings and mutterings. The terror of it was too much for her, and, dropping her newspapers and the biscuit on to the floor, she fled out of the cottage and ran wildly home.
Once she tripped over a tree-root and fell, spilling all her milk, which had not already been splashed out—she had not dared to leave it at the Feudal Castle for fear of the glass being missed—but she scrambled up again without even waiting to find out whether she was hurt or the tumbler broken.
She was back at last in the safe hall of Fir-tree Cottage, blinking her eyes in the bright lamplight, and reflecting ruefully that, after all, her expedition had been of very little use, since she had not been able to tell Diamond Jubilee of the biscuit and newspapers which were awaiting him at the Feudal Castle if only he would go and sleep there, or to explain the purpose for which the newspapers were intended.
‘Well, it’s no use troubling about him any more to-night,’ she said to herself wearily as she went upstairs. ‘I’ve done all I can, and, anyhow, he doesn’t seem to be sleeping in the garden, which is one good thing. It’s very odd where he can be, though.’
She put the glass back on its tray—fortunately, it had not been broken—and went to her own room. It was not quite bedtime yet, but she was still feeling too creepy to want to sit up alone. The first thing that met her ear when she opened the door was the sound of Kitty crying, not howling, as she often did, but just crying in a low, unhappy way.
‘Why, Kitty!’ exclaimed Emmeline, impatiently—it was a relief to be impatient with somebody just then—’ I thought you’d have been asleep long ago. You are a baby to be still crying because you were sent to bed early! You’d have been in bed by now, anyhow.’
‘It’s n-not that,’ sobbed Kitty.
‘What is it, then?’ demanded Emmeline, sharply.
‘Because—I don’t think I was true this afternoon,’ said Kitty, tearfully. ‘Jane asked if the lift was for Micky’s toys, and I lowered my head, and I think she thought I was nodding, though I didn’t mean her to, but I think she thought I meant it was. And Aunt Grace says it’s almost as bad as to let people think what’s not true as to tell a story. Oh, Emmeline, what shall I do?’
‘Oh, don’t be so silly, Kitty!’ said Emmeline, crossly. ‘Nobody would get on at all if they were so particular as all that—at least I don’t mean that exactly,’ as Kitty opened her eyes, ‘but you really mustn’t worry about fancies. It wasn’t your fault if Jane chose to take a wrong idea into her head.’