A few days after the arrival of Nan’s nurse Mrs Willis was obliged unexpectedly to leave home; a near relative was dangerously ill in London, and the school-mistress went away in much trouble and anxiety. Some of her favourite pupils flocked to the front entrance to see their beloved mistress off. Amongst the group Cecil stood, and several girls of the first-class; many of the little girls were also present, but Annie was not amongst them. Just at the last moment she rushed up breathlessly; she was tying some starry jasmine and some blue forget-me-nots together, and as the carriage was moving off she flung the charming bouquet into her mistress’s lap.
Mrs Willis rewarded her with one of her old looks of confidence and love; she raised the flowers to her lips and kissed them, and her eyes smiled on Annie.
“Good-bye, dear,” she called out; “good-bye, all my dear girls; I will try and be back to-morrow night. Remember, my children, during my absence I trust you.”
The carriage disappeared down the avenue, and the group of girls melted away. Cecil looked round for Annie, but Annie had been the first to disappear.
When her mistress had kissed the flowers and smiled at her, Annie darted into the shrubbery and stood there wiping the fast-falling tears from her eyes. She was interrupted in this occupation by the sudden cries of two glad and eager voices, and instantly her hands were taken, and some girls rather younger than herself began to drag her in the opposite direction through the shrubbery.
“Come, Annie—come at once, Annie, darling,” exclaimed Phyllis and Nora Raymond. “The basket has come; it’s under the thick laurel-tree in the back avenue. We are all waiting for you; we none of us will open it till you arrive.”
Annie’s face, a truly April one, changed as if by magic. The tears dried on her cheeks; her eyes filled with sunlight; she was all eager for the coming fun.
“Then we won’t lose a moment, Phyllis,” she said; “we’ll see what that duck of a Betty has done for us.”
The three girls scampered down the back avenue, where they found five of their companions, amongst them Susan Drummond, standing in different attitudes of expectation near a very large and low-growing laurel-tree. Everyone raised a shout when Annie appeared; she was undoubtedly recognised as queen and leader of the proceedings. She took her post without an instant’s hesitation, and began ordering her willing subjects about.
“Now, is the coast clear? yes, I think so. Come, Susie, greedy as you are, you must take your part. You alone of all of us can cackle with the exact imitation of an old hen: get behind that tree at once and watch the yard. Don’t forget to cackle for your life if you even see the shadow of a footfall. Norah, my pretty birdie, you must be the thrush for the nonce; here, lake your post, watch the lawn and the front avenue. Now then, girls, the rest of us can see what spoils Betty has provided for us.”