"There's nothing whatever the matter," said Nellie.
"Then what's all this fuss about?" asked Miss Yard.
"You are making the fuss."
"I didn't send for the doctor. And he's coming again tomorrow. It's not measles, and it's not whooping cough, but I believe it's poison. Bessie put poison into the teapot."
"Why Bessie?"
"I knew she would do something dreadful if she didn't stop growing. And Robert is so short. It must all mean something. He held the teapot while Bessie put in the poison. Nasty bitter stuff it was too! I suppose I must forgive them, though I don't like doing it. Where is George?"
"He is packing. He's going away tomorrow."
"But he must stay for the funeral!"
"There's not going to be a funeral. You know Mr. George must leave us; he has told you so lots of times."
"Tell him to come here. I must give him a present. Look in the cupboard and find me something to give George. And pack up all my clothes, for I shan't want them again. Send them to that Bishop who wrote and said he hadn't got any."