"In 1492," retorted Almira triumphantly. "You didn't catch me that time, Miss Faushane!"
"Well, I don't know," said Belle. "I should rather think I did."
"I don't care!" returned Almira. "I remember some things, if I don't recollect dates."
"Such as French verbs, and rules in Arithmetic, I suppose. But come there is the breakfast bell."
Mrs. Pomeroy appeared at the breakfast table, serene as usual, and no one was missing but Delia. Emily had been gone so long, that the girls had ceased to look for her. Towards the end of the meal, Mrs. Pomeroy tapped with her spoon upon the urn before her, and the girls were all attention in a moment. Mrs. Pomeroy spoke with her usual deliberation.
"I wish to say to the young ladies, that some of them must come to my bed-room to-day, upon any pretext whatever, but must apply to Miss Gilbert who will supply any thing that may be necessary. Miss Mason is quite ill, and it is necessary that she should be kept perfectly quiet. I am sure your own good feeling will lead you to make as little noise as possible in going back and forth to your lessons. There will be no recitations in French this morning, and the young ladies will study in the school-room during that hour. You are excused."
"There, I knew there was something queer," said Almira, exultingly. "I knew that Mr. Hugo was mixed up in it somehow. What is he away for to-day, if it is not so?"
"Perhaps he has shot himself!" said Janet, bravely.
"Or lost, or accidentally mislaid himself," added Lucy, taking up the ball.
"Or lost his boots—or broken his bottle of hair-dye—or got a black eye—" continued Belle, coming nearer to the truth than she imagined in this last suggestion. "Send down some one with your compliments, and inquire."