“Oh, we must go this morning,” said Mrs. Archibald, quickly. “We must go. We really cannot wait until any of those people come here. It makes me nervous to think about it.”
“Very good, then,” said Peter. “The coach starts for the train at eleven.”
Mrs. Archibald was a systematic woman, and was in the habit of rising at half-past seven, and when that hour arrived she awoke as if she had been asleep all night. Going to the window to see what sort of a day it was, which was also her custom, she looked out upon the lawn in front of the house, and her jaw dropped and her eyes opened. There she beheld Margery and Mr. Clyde strolling along in close converse. For a moment she was utterly stupefied.
“What can this mean?” she thought. “How could they have missed us so soon? We are seldom out of our cabin before eight o’clock. I cannot comprehend it!” And then a thought came to her which made her face grow pale. “Is it possible,” she said to herself, “that any of the others have come? I must go immediately and find out.”
In ten minutes she had dressed and quietly left the room.
When Margery saw Mrs. Archibald descending the piazza, steps, she left Mr. Clyde and came running to meet her.
“I expect you are surprised to see me here,” she said, “but I intended to tell you and Uncle Archibald as soon as you came down. You see, I did not at all want to go away and not let Mr. Clyde know what had become of me, and so, after I had packed my bag, I wrote a little note to him and put it in a biscuit-box under a stone not far from my window, which we had arranged for a post-office, just the day before.”
“A post-office!” cried Mrs. Archibald.
“Yes,” said Margery. “Of course there wasn’t any need for one—at least we did not suppose there would be—but we thought it would be nice; for, you must know, we are engaged.”
“What!” cried Mrs. Archibald. “Engaged? Impossible! What are you talking about?”