“Well, he looked surprised enough to see us, and seemed to think we were lost tourists or something, and had come to ask our way, and he tried to hustle us off; but Long Jake soon told him, and when he heard my name and knew I’d come from the school, he seemed to understand all right, because Stella had been talking about us all at home, you see.”
“And what did he say?” inquired Josy. “Here, Margot, you’ll be hoarse with talking; eat a Brazil nut—they’re nearly gone!”
“I couldn’t—really!” said Margot, taking one nevertheless. “I feel as though I should never eat again after to-day; it’s been so exciting. Well, he just said that Sybil wasn’t there, but that there was someone very ill in the house, and that he supposed Long Jake didn’t happen to be a doctor.”
“And was he one?” inquired Josy; for in the minds of all those in Dormitory 3 the hero had become an Admirable Crichton at least.
“Well, he isn’t one, of course,” said Margot; “but he said he’d had a good deal of experience—so he had, in the Bush, you know; oh, you should have seen him when——! Oh, but I can’t tell you that now; it’s too long. So the rector and he went into a little room, and I sat and waited, and it was growing dark; and then I heard sounds like someone very ill. Oh——!”
Margot’s eyes filled with tears at the remembrance; she bit violently into a sausage-roll to hide the state of her feelings, and waited a moment before resuming her story.
“Oh, do go on,” begged Josy. “I mean, if you possibly can. Leave out that part, and have some ginger-beer first; it’s most awfully reviving.”
“I’m all right,” said Margot. “Then—well, then——! After what seemed like ages, and ages—then mother came!”
“Oh, weren’t you glad to see her?” inquired Gretta, to whom Auntie Tib was the beau-ideal of every virtue. “Didn’t it make all the difference?”
“I should just think so; she always puts things right; and when I’d told her, we just built up a fire, and then she went into the room.”