"I declare, this is too bad," cried Robert. "I cannot allow you to walk back, and without anything to eat."
"You cannot help it. The circumstances are unusual. The elements have our fortunes in hand," she replied.
"The instant I get the young ladies home, my man and I will come back with all the good things we can carry. Tell Doctor Weldon that we shall have a dinner—perhaps a late one—for her."
"She has sent messengers to Flemington. They will bring us something for one meal at least. Come, girls." She led her little flock toward home. There was no hope of finding a bite to eat anywhere in the city. Men and women had worked all night and were yet working without a particle of food or drop to drink. The preceptress was worn and weak. Her responsibility for the last two days had been great; but she did not dare give up. She trudged bravely toward school, encouraging the girls and drawing their attention to any phase of the situation which was not burdened with pathos.
Robert Vail led his party down the residence street and then turned down an alley. "These narrow passages have less drift," he explained. "My man and I discovered this this morning."
By devious ways, he brought them out on High Street which stood above the ravages of the flood. Here a tally-ho with four horses stood waiting.
Robert assisted the Fraulein and girls to their places and bade the coachman drive on. Hester and Helen sat side by side.
"Now, I am really to meet your Aunt Harriet," said Hester. "It is very strange. Think of my rooming with you for ten months and never meeting her."
"Never met mother?" exclaimed Robert Vail. "Be prepared to meet the finest mother in the world."
"There may be some exception," said Helen, "at least Hester may think so. She may be vain enough to think that she had the finest mother in the world."