[60]
]But there was only a pillow and a tossed heap of clothes—the bed was empty!
“She’s gone down for more light and company. How unkind of Nellie!” she said aloud, starting off in quest of her. She looked in the different bedrooms as she passed, then in the nursery, which was brightly lighted but deserted.
The boys’ landing was in darkness; but at the end of it [she caught] a glimpse of something white outside Bunty’s door.
“Poppet!” she cried, hurrying down. “Oh, Poppet, nothing on your feet, and only your nightgown!”
She picked her up in her arms, nine years old though she was.
But the child was nearly beside herself, and struggled back to the ground, beating with her small hands against the lower panels of the door.
“Bunty!” she said, “Bunty! Bunty! Can’t you hear me, Bunty? Oh, Bunty!”
“John!” Meg called sharply, “answer at once!”
“What?” said Bunty’s voice in its gruffest tone. “For goodness’ sake leave me alone! What on earth do you want? Don’t be an idiot, Poppet.”
The very gruffness and crossness of the reply reassured the child—it was so unmistakably Buntyish. [61] ]Her sobs grew less and less wild—she even permitted Meg to lift her up in her arms again.