On the morning after the prize-giving day at Hazlitt Chase, Penelope rose with a headache. There was a great deal of bustle and excitement in the school, for nearly all the girls were going to their several homes on that special morning. Penelope and Mademoiselle d’Etienne would have the beautiful old house to themselves before twenty-four hours were over.
Penelope did not in the least care for Mademoiselle; she was not especially fond of her school life, but she detested those long and endless holidays which she spent invariably at Hazlitt Chase.
To-day all was in disorder. The usual routine of school life was over. The children were some of them beside themselves with the thought of the railway journey and the home-coming in the evening. Somebody shouted to Penelope to hurry with her dressing, in order to help to get off the little ones. The smaller children, including the two little Hungerfords, were to go in a great omnibus to the station and be conducted by a governess to their different homes in various parts of England.
Pauline Hungerford suddenly rushed into the room where Penelope was standing.
“Helen of Troy,” she said.
“Oh, please don’t!” said Penelope. “I am not Helen of Troy—I don’t wish to be called by that odious name.”
“But you were so beautiful!” said little Pauline. “Do you know that while we were looking at you, even Nellie forgot about her bracelet; but she’s crying like anything over the loss of it this morning. It is quite too bad.”
“Yes, indeed it is,” said Penelope. “I do trust your mother will take steps to get it back. I hear that some of the railway officials were supposed to have stolen it.”
“Oh dear,” said Pauline, “how wicked of them! What awful people they must be! Who told you that, Penelope?”
“Well, it was mentioned to me by my sister, who came here yesterday. You saw her, of course?”