“You will find out for yourself when you talk to her. She certainly has the most frightful cock-and-bull stories to tell us. What an extraordinary school it must be! Robina is full of an invitation she has received from some impostor who has taken the name of the great Mr Durrant, and she also speaks of a pony arriving here to-morrow. Of course the child is dreaming, but if her lies are proved to be lies, I shall punish her severely. I am, however, just, before all things, and wait before I administer the rod. On the whole, Edward, I do not congratulate you on Robina’s return: we shall have a sorry time with her during these holidays, and so far, school has the reverse of improved her.”
“You always were doleful, Felicia,” said her brother-in-law: “but as it is close on one o’clock, I will go to my room, and consider Robina’s iniquities in the morning—that is, if you have no objection.”
“Objection?” cried Miss Jennings—“when I am just dying for my bed! You men have no heart and no consideration. Here have I been sitting up waiting for you all this long, weary time, with my eyes weighted as though there was lead on the lids, and my back bowed with aching. But much you care.”
“I wish to goodness you would go to bed, and leave me alone,” said the irate man.
“Not I;” she replied, “to have the house burgled in your absence, or set on fire when you return, with the careless way you manage that pipe of yours.”
“Well: I’m off to bed now, Felicia. If you do choose to sit up, it isn’t my fault.” And the master of the house ran upstairs three steps at a time. Even his sister-in-law’s “Don’t make so much noise” failed to impress him in any way.
He reached his bedroom, got rapidly into bed, and fell asleep chuckling over “that monkey Robina,” as he called her.
By the first post the next morning, there arrived two letters, both of immense interest to Robina. She had got up early and was, if the truth must be known, eagerly watching for the post. She saw the letters when they arrived, and had a sort of intuition that they contained news which would be of vital interest to her. But as they were addressed to her father, she could do nothing towards gratifying her curiosity until he appeared.
She was dressed that morning in one of her neat school frocks, and looked very bonny, and strong, and self-reliant. The two little sisters were eagerly clamouring round her.
“Take my hand, Wobbin. Wobbin, let’s wun acwoss garden!” cried little Rose.