At the end of nearly a week she felt she could not bear this furtiveness and suspense a minute longer, and she determined to go to Chris’s house and find out for herself just what had happened and was happening. She would not ring the bell. She would go round to the side of the house and see if the schoolroom window was open, and get in and find Miss Radley and force her to tell the truth. If Chris was lost, then she, Easter, must herself set forth to find him without more delay.
All fell out as she had planned.
The schoolroom window, which opened like a door divided down the middle, was open, and Miss Radley, with her back to it, sat at the table, writing.
Easter could move quietly as a cat when it suited her. She came in without making a sound, and stood just behind Miss Radley, who was so absorbed she noticed nothing.
“Have you lost Chris, Miss Radley?” Easter asked loudly.
Miss Radley started violently, and Easter came round to her side, and she noticed that Miss Radley’s usually round, rosy face was pale and much less round than it used to be.
“Oh, Easter dear, how you startled me! Don’t suggest such a dreadful thing! We’re awfully anxious, with his mother away and all this other trouble, but ... we must hope always, always hope—for if anything happened to Chris....”
“What has happened to Chris?” Easter asked, searching the very soul of Miss Radley with her large clear gaze.
“He got so wet after he left you that day last week—I can’t think how—and he got a real bad chill, and now there are all sorts of complications—and his temperature keeps up so.”
“What are complications?” Easter interrupted.