“You can easily start another letter,” said Miss Bibby distractedly; “don’t mention your music this time—your mother won’t mind.”
[p85]
“No, I can’t stop; I can’t stop,” wailed Pauline, playing on as if under a spell.
At this point Anna stalked into the room.
“Which I’m quite aware it isn’t my place, Miss Bibby; but I’m here to look after the children as well as you,” she said, “and them down with whooping cough that dreadful they can’t eat potatoes, and getting punished like this till the very kettle in the kitchen is ready to scream, and the Missus don’t believe in punishing, no, she don’t, and it’s a good deal longer I’ve lived in the fambly than some people, and knows the ways better, and the tears streaming down the poor child’s face like you never saw.”
Pauline had quivered once or twice during this heated speech, but as it finished she crashed on to D flat yet again, fell off her stool on to the floor, and rolled about screaming with laughter.
Even Miss Bibby was forced to smile a little, for Anna was plainly suffering keenly, and had bottled it up for some time.
“You mean well, Anna,” she said quietly, “even if you don’t express yourself well. You can put on your hat and take the children to the waterfall; it will do you all good, for it will be cool down there. I will go to the post, lock the side door, and put the key under the mat.”
In ten minutes “Greenways” lay still and [p86] peaceful once more among its trees, as if no Serenade had ever troubled its repose. The children were scampering down the gully with Anna following warily, certain she heard a snake at every step.
And Miss Bibby, the letters under her arm, was buttoning her gloves inside the gate, and settling her veil for the walk up to the township.
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