“Oh, give me the letters if you like,” said Priscilla; “I will run down the hill in no time, and come back again as quickly. I do not mind climbing hills in the least.”
“They exhaust me frightfully,” said Mabel; “and I notice, too, that Annie gets a little out of breath when she walks up these impossible mountains too fast. That is a good idea, really. Give Priscie the letters, Annie, and come home with me; I want to talk to you.”
“No, I can’t,” said Annie. “I must post them myself; they are important.”
She darted away, pretending not to notice Mabel’s flushed, indignant face and Priscilla’s look of grave surprise. She reached the post-office and dropped all the letters she had written, except that one to Mrs Priestley, into the box. Mrs Priestley’s letter she kept safely in her pocket.
“This must be delayed for perhaps a couple of days,” thought Annie. “In the meantime I shall have to talk to May. What a mercy,” was her next reflection, “that I was given the writing of the letter, and also the posting of it! Oh dear, dear! I think I can almost manage anything. I am sure May ought to be obliged to me, and so ought that tiresome Priscie. I would do anything for dear old May; but as to Priscie, I get more sick of her each minute. If only Lady Lushington would send her back to England I should feel safer. She is just the sort of girl who would wind herself to a grand confession, never caring how she dragged the rest of us into the mire with her. She is just precisely that sort of detestable martyr being. But she sha’n’t spoil my fun, or May’s fun either, if we can help it.”
Annie appeared at lunch just a wee bit late, but looking remarkably pretty, and apologising in the most amiable tones for her unavoidable delay.
“I am not very good at hills,” she explained to Lady Lushington. “They always set my heart beating rather badly. But never mind; the letters are posted and off our minds.”
“One of those letters is by no means off my mind,” said Lady Lushington in a fierce tone, and glancing with reproachful eyes at Mabel. Annie bent towards her and said in a whisper (she could not be heard by Mabel and Priscilla as some servants came up at the moment to present dishes to the two young ladies):—
“Please say nothing before Priscilla, I beg of you.”
The voice was so earnest and so sympathetic, and the little face looked so appealing, that Lady Lushington patted the small white hand. Priscilla’s voice, however, was now heard: