Clara ran out of the room, holding her handkerchief to her mouth, but pretending all the while to be frightened out of her wits; and then what a fuss there was getting the fallen one into her seat again—but not on the dais—bathing her face, chafing her hands, sprinkling her with Eau de Cologne, holding salts to her nose; and it was just as she was groaning the loudest and sighing her worst that Clara came back, and began to look in her droll, comical way at me.
I had not seen through the trick at first; but all at once I recalled that wicked girl’s “Look out!” when it flashed through my mind in an instant that she had moved back the chair and table upon the daïs, so that at the first good push back of her chair the poor woman fell down; and so, what with the thoughts of the wicked trick, and Mrs Blunt’s long-drawn face, and Clara’s droll eyes peering at me so saucily, I could not help it, but burst out into a loud laugh.
Talk of smelling-salts, and bathing, and chafing, why, they were as nothing in comparison with that laugh. Poor Mrs Blunt! I dare say she did hurt herself, for she was stout and heavy; but she was well again in an instant, and looked at me in a horribly furious manner. But I did not care—not a bit; and I could not help it, for it was not my fault I could see though, that she thought that it was, as she burst out,—
“Miss Bozerne!”
“Such unladylike behaviour,” chimed in Miss Furness.
“So cruel!” exclaimed Miss Sloman.
“Ach ten!” ejaculated the Fraülein; while I caught sight of Miss Murray looking quite pained at me.
“I did not think that a young lady in my establishment would have been guilty of such atrocious conduct,” exclaimed Mrs Blunt furiously.
“No, indeed,” said Miss Furness.
“Something entirely new,” exclaimed Miss Sloman, tossing her pretty head.