Miss Finlayson put her other arm for a moment round the little figure in the pink dressing-gown, and she kissed the only place on the hot, wet cheek that was to be seen. Then she stepped backwards and left her free.
‘You can go, Barbara, if you want to,’ she said, just as calmly as before.
Babs uncovered her eyes and looked at her incredulously. Now that she was free to go the inclination to run away seemed to have left her. Outside, the boys were waiting and wondering why she did not join them. They could just see something at the open window, but the shadow cast by the orchard wall made it indistinguishable. Miss Finlayson shot one glance outwards, that took in the row of figures at the top of the wall, and the row of bicycles at the bottom of it; then she waited passively for Barbara to make up her mind. But this was precisely what the child could not do.
‘Wouldn’t you–wouldn’t you mind?’ she stammered at last.
‘Would it matter to you if I did?’ asked Miss Finlayson.
Babs stood still, in a miserable state of indecision, with one foot still on the window-seat, and the other placed on the ledge outside. She was beginning to feel exhausted by the excitement she had gone through, and she gave a weary yawn that turned into a shiver. Miss Finlayson promptly put an end to the situation by lifting her back into the hall. Directly she did so, a series of thuds in the neighbourhood of the wall, followed by the crunch of footsteps along the gravel path, sounded from without, and the tops of five heads suddenly appeared at the open window.
‘If you please,’ said a voice, pleadingly, ‘it is our fault that the Babe is trying to escape. You won’t rag her for it, will you?’
‘Five heads suddenly appeared at the open window’