“Why, that our school-days are over. Things seem so exactly like they have always seemed. This is two days before Christmas. To-morrow we will go as usual to help with the church decorations. The next day will be Christmas Day. Then I suppose there’ll be some sort of festivities going, and—and— But what I want to know is this?”
“Yes?” said Mrs Fortescue.
Bridget had left the room. An excellent dessert was on the board. The fire glowed red; the light was good.
“Yes?” she repeated.
“I want to know what is the end of it all. We are not going back to school at the end of January. We have done with school.”
“Yes, darling,” said Mrs Fortescue.
She rose as she spoke. She went swiftly up to the girl and put her arm round her neck.
“You have done with school in one sense, but all your beautiful future lies before you. You forget that Mr Timmins is coming to-morrow.”
“I had forgotten,” said Florence. “Had you, Brenda?”
“No,” said Brenda, “how could I forget? I had a letter from him at Chester House this morning.”