“I am distressed about her,” she said; “for she doesn’t look well or happy. But there is no doubt that she has not written anything which I ought to see. Do not make yourself unhappy therefore, Deborah dear, but let us continue our usual pleasant life and trust that my suspicions have not been justified.”
“Oh, I am certain they have not,” said Deborah. “Meanwhile,” continued Mrs Hazlitt, “we are exceedingly busy; I find the tableaux are going to be much better than I expected. The little plays too, and the garden of roses—an extravaganza—will be quite sweet. But I am really putting all my strength and energy into Tennyson’s poem; I am only vexed that Honora Beverley cannot be Helen of Troy.”
“But what do you think of the present Helen?” enquired Miss Duke.
“She is much more remarkable than I thought it possible she could be. I am most anxious to see her to-night, when we have a dress rehearsal and she will wear her costume for the first time. She is a queer girl, and not a happy one. I wonder what sort of creature that sister of hers is.”
“By the way,” said Miss Duke, “she came to me this morning with a petition. She wants to know if she may invite her sister to the performance. It seems that Miss Brenda Carlton could take an early train from where she is now staying and reach here in time for the day’s festivities; and Penelope would take it as a great favour if she might sleep in her room that night.”
“No,” replied Mrs Hazlitt with decision. “That I do not allow. Were I to accede to Penelope’s wish, the same request would be presented to me by each of my pupils. The girls will especially require their night’s rest after the excitement of the day. I don’t know anything about Miss Brenda, but I am quite willing to invite her here as Penelope’s relation, only she cannot sleep in the house.”
“I will speak to Penelope and tell her what you say,” remarked Miss Duke.
She moved away rather sadly. She was fully convinced, in spite of herself, that there was something not quite right in the school, but not for worlds would she give hint to Mrs Hazlitt with regard to the matter.
She found Penelope, as usual, surrounded by some of the younger girls. She dismissed them with a playful word and then, taking her pupil’s hand, led her into the oak parlour where such a serious conversation had taken place between herself and the headmistress.
“What in the world is it, Deborah?” said Penelope.