But Madam Liberality shook her head more vehemently than before, and her mother smiled and went away.
Madam Liberality strained her ears. The book-room door opened—she knew the voice of the handle—there was a rush and a noise, but it died away into the room. The tears broke down Madam Liberality's cheeks. It was hard not to be there now. Then there was a patter up the stairs, and flying steps along the landing, and Madam Liberality's door was opened by Darling. She was dressed in the pink dress, and her cheeks were pinker still, and her eyes full of tears. And she threw herself at Madam Liberality's feet, crying,
"Oh how good, how very good you are!"
At this moment a roar came up from below, and Madam Liberality wrote,
"What is it?" and then dropped the slate to clutch the arms of her chair, for the pain was becoming almost intolerable. Before Darling could open the door her mother came in, and Darling repeated the question,
"What is it?"
But at this moment the reply came from below, in Tom's loudest tones. It rang through the house, and up into the bedroom.
"Three cheers for Madam Liberality! Hip, hip, hooray!"
The extremes of pleasure and of pain seemed to meet in Madam Liberality's little head. But overwhelming gratification got the upper hand, and, forgetting even her quinsy, she tried to speak, and after a brief struggle she said, with tolerable distinctness,
"Tell Tom I am very much obliged to him."