But the girls instinctively drew closer together, and Pamela said:—
“We would rather not go away, out of England. All our friends are here, you know.”
Audrey gave them a look which encouraged the girls, while it evidently angered Mademoiselle Laure. She laughed harshly.
“What friends have you? None. You can’t count your school-friends. You want to go into the world, to make new friends, new acquaintances. And in Paris, with me, you will enjoy yourselves. You will have what you call ‘a good time’. Don’t look at Madame Rocada. Answer me.”
Pamela did answer, very boldly.
“We don’t want to go away. We won’t go away. We want to see our mother first.”
At these words their aunt, intensely astonished, seemed to lose all self-control, and breaking out into a tempest of passion, cried:—
“Your mother! What do you know about your mother? Your mother is mad, has been shut up in a lunatic asylum for years. She is no fit companion for you. Your father would never allow you to see her. If Madame Rocada has been encouraging you to ask to see her, she has done wrong, very wrong.”
And Mademoiselle Laure turned angrily to Audrey.
“You are always making mischief, always,” she said.