“I—I suppose so,” replied Coppertop, sitting up in bed to make quite sure. “What is it, Jane?”
Jane opened the door cautiously, and continued in a hushed voice—
“I hardly think I ought to tell you, seeing it’s so late.”
“Tell me what?” asked the child in an excited whisper.
“They’re coming home, miss. Mrs. Grudge has had a telegram to say Captain and Mrs. Sinclair will be here to-morrer mornin’, being the first of December!”
“GOOD GRACIOUS!” cried Coppertop. And bounding out of bed she dragged the nervous maid into the room by her apron.
“Mummie and Daddy coming home!” she cried, “absolutely really-truly! Eeeeeuggh!” and Coppertop gave a shrill squeal of delight, and capered madly about the room.
“Oh, hush, miss! If Mrs. Grudge should hear us. I never ought to have told you, only I simply couldn’t ’elp it. You’ll be that excited you’ll never sleep a wink. Lor, here she is!”
And at the sound of someone coming along the passage, Jane beat a hasty retreat.
Coppertop wanted to rush after her and pour out a string of burning questions—but on second thoughts she remembered Mrs. Grudge, and drew back; it would never do to get Jane into trouble.