“Hush,” said Meg. She feared for the effect the blow would have on Poppet, and caught the child’s hand and drew her to her side.
“Run away!” repeated Poppet.
Every vestige of colour had dropped out of her face; it wore a strained, unchildlike look, and her eyes were heavy.
Meg drew her closer still and stroked her hair.
“Perhaps it’s a mistake, dear. Oh, he’s only gone to school, or camping, or something, and didn’t tell us; there’s no need to trouble,” she said. But she felt terribly uneasy.
Poppet did not look up. She was thinking of the red-stained window and the kiss last night—thinking of the school troubles, and the boy’s strange behaviour, and hints at worse.
There was a loud, angry voice calling from the nursery, and every one trooped back in amaze. What was the Captain doing in their own special room at breakfast-time?
[72]
]Esther was there, too, with horrified eyes, and Pip with a look of fierce disgust on his face.
How red their father’s face was! how his moustache bristled! Peter shrank close up behind Meg, and wondered if it was about yesterday’s lessons.
“Father,” Meg said, white to the lips, “what is the matter? Esther, can’t you speak? Oh, Pip, what is it?”