“It’s all right, Sybil, don’t take any notice of me. I was only so afraid that dad would miss us.”
“Well, I wish you wouldn’t look like that,” half sobbed Sybil. “I hope school isn’t going to be horrid, after all. Ann said it would be, and now you’re crying about it. It’s unkind of you to frighten me, and if the girls are going to be nasty I shan’t stay. I shall write and ask auntie to take me away!”
It was rather a miserable little couple who peered out of the carriage window at York station and looked anxiously for their aunt and cousin, who were standing on the platform awaiting the incoming train. Margot herself, the self-reliant Margot, was looking a little forlorn, too, though she would not have owned to it for worlds, and even Auntie Tib had a lonely feeling at the bottom of her heart at the idea that she and Margot were to be parted for the first time. But she did not show it. That was not Mrs. Fleming’s way. All was laughter and bustle, and under her genial influence the children’s spirits began to reassert themselves.
“Have you got everything, dears? Gretta, where’s that fiddle? Now, Sybil, Uncle Bob has sent you these chocolates for the journey, but don’t make yourself ill, you know, for that would be such a bad beginning——”
“Oh, auntie, how lovely!” Sybil grasped at the box. “And don’t our clothes look nice! It’s the first time we’ve worn them, you know. Do you think the girls at school will like them?”
“They’ll have far too many other interests to think about your clothes, you may be sure,” said auntie. “We must hurry; it wouldn’t do to miss the train.”
Only a very few minutes after that they were bustled into the Cliffland carriage, and Margot, looking very serious, was hanging out of the window and exchanging last words with her mother. “I’m going to write to-night, mother, so look out for a letter to-morrow morning. Give father my love, and don’t let him miss me.”
“All right, darling.” Mrs. Fleming kissed Margot again, but her last words were for Gretta, and it was almost as though she could read the thoughts that were passing in the child’s mind.
“Uncle Bob and I are going to take the car over to Redgate to-morrow, dear,” she said, just as the guard was lifting his whistle to his lips. “I shall have a talk with Ann, and will write and tell you how your father gets on.”
There was no time for the child to express her thanks, the train was off. Sybil and Margot were both hanging out of the window, waving their handkerchiefs, and Gretta could only assure herself that auntie would know how grateful she was.