“A bit.”
“Good gracious! What else have you got a bit of?”
“I don’t know—a bit of everything. Anyhow, I’m not going.”
“Hadn’t we better take her temperature?” said Clay. “It seems frightfully wrong to leave her.”
“No, no, I won’t put that horrid little thing into my mouth,” said Pen. “I’ll stay with nursey. Nursey shall look after me. You can all go, and if nursey wants to send for the doctor she can. But I’m not bad enough for that, only I can’t stand the train. Do let me stay, please, please. If you don’t, you’ll have to take me by force, for I’ll scream and shriek all the way.”
The waggonette appeared at the door. The coachman bent down.
“Young ladies,” he said, “it’s about time to go.”
“Our luggage has gone,” said Clara, “and yours too, Pen.”
“Perhaps I’ll come to-morrow,” said Pen. “I can’t—I can’t go now.”
“We’ll have to leave her,” said Clara. “I’ll just run up and tell old Richardson to look after her.”