"To-night!" I cried, not wishing to echo her words, but surprise bereft me of an original mode of speech.
"I must leave you to-night."
I lay back and looked at Amelia—at her leaning, high-heeled shoes, at her pearl necklace, at her befrilled apron, at her perky cap, at her tightly-curled fringe. Could all these things be leaving me to-night, leaving me forever? I should miss them, I knew, so accustomed does one become to familiar objects. I wondered where they would go, how long it would be before Amelia stitched the right-hand string to her apron instead of pinning it there? My eyes rose slowly from the apron, upon which they had been resting, to her necklace. Whose gaze, instead of mine, would rest upon those pearls? Then I reached Amelia's face—her soap-shone, eager face. This brought me to the girl herself. She, Amelia, who had seemed so devoted, she was going to leave me——
"To-night!" broke in Amelia sternly.
"Yes, yes," I said quickly.
She stood and looked at me defiantly. I don't know why, for I wasn't speaking.
"How soon shall you start?" I asked for want or something to say.
She did not reply.
"Perhaps you wouldn't mind giving me a little pudding before you go," I said. "It's getting cold. You put it over there on the chair." And to my immense surprise she burst into tears.
"Whatever's the matter?" I asked in consternation. "Don't cry, Amelia, don't cry." I patted the tortoise as Amelia wasn't near enough to pat.