Here the good lady, after adding a few more words with regard to hours, etc., took her leave. The girls were to go to Chepstow House as day-pupils, and the work of their education at that distinguished school was to begin on the following morning.
Evelyn was rather pleased than otherwise when she heard that she was to be sent to school. She had cried and flung her arms round Miss Sinclair’s neck when that lady was taking leave of her. Audrey, on the contrary, had scarcely spoken; her face looked a little whiter than usual, and her eyes a little darker. She took the governess’s hand and wrung it, and as she bent forward to kiss her again on the cheek, Miss Sinclair kissed her and whispered something to her. But it was poor Evelyn who cried. The carriage took the governess away, and the girls looked at each other.
“I did not know you could be so stony-hearted,” said Evelyn. She took out her handkerchief as she spoke and mopped her eyes. “Oh dear!” she added, “I am quite broken-hearted without her. I am such an affectionate girl.”
“We had better prepare for school,” said Audrey. “We are to go there to-morrow morning, remember.”
“Yes,” answered Evelyn, her eyes brightening; “and do you know, although I am terribly sorry to part with dear Miss Sinclair, I am glad about school. Mothery always wished me to go; she said that talents like mine could never find a proper vent except in school-life. I wonder what sort of girls there are at Chepstow House?”
“I don’t know anything about it,” said Audrey.
“Are you sorry to go, Audrey?”
“Yes—rather. I have never been to school.”
“How funny it will be to see you looking shy and awkward! Will you be shy and awkward?”