“Oh yes,” cried Priscilla, throwing one arm about her father’s neck and kissing him, “please, father;” and her face, though still very pale, grew brighter and less alarmed-looking.
“But—do you think it will be all right to wait till then? They won’t take away Loveday, or——”
“My dear, they couldn’t, and wouldn’t. Of course not; I expect we shall have a letter by the next post from Bessie. Now I will go to the office and send this telegram, and tell Bessie to be sure and let me know if I must come before to-morrow.” And away he went.
After all this Priscilla felt too tired and languid to do anything, even to sort out the toys she wanted to take with her, but when presently a telegram came back from Bessie to say, “All well, nothing serious,” she felt very much happier, and grew quite excited at the thought that she was going to see Loveday to-morrow, and to take her her red cloak, and she lay back very contentedly in her chair and watched her mother and Nurse looking over her clothes to see what they should pack, and then arranging them in her box.
By the post next morning came Bessie’s letter telling them all about Loveday’s and Aaron’s escapade. When Priscilla heard it she felt very frightened again, for it seemed such a dreadful thing that they had done. But still her father did not seem very much concerned, and, seeing him so cheerful, Priscilla tried to be so too, though in her secret heart she had a great dread of the morose, mysterious Mr. Winter, and did not feel at all sure that, after all, he would not fulfil his threat, and send for a policeman.
However, on a bright sunny morning, with a lot to do, with farewell visits to pay to Miss Potts, Mrs. Tickell, and many others, a journey to the sea before one, two new cloaks, hidden away where they could easily be got at, a little sister, and the sea, and a holiday at the end of the journey, no one could feel quite, quite miserable. And with the sun shining and the breeze blowing, and Betsy trotting quickly along between the flower-decked hedges, and Geoffrey beside one making fun, it did not seem possible that anything very, very dreadful could happen, and Priscilla’s spirits rose enormously.
She felt quite sorry for Hocking, who was to be left behind.
“O Hocking,” she sighed, “don’t you wish you were going to the seaside too?”
But Hocking did not seem at all perturbed at being left behind. “What’s the use of wishing, miss?” he said slowly; “if wishes were ’orses beggars would ride.”
Priscilla looked at him for a moment, puzzled, then looked away to try and think out his meaning. “I don’t see any sense in that,” she said at last, having thought the matter over for some time. “If they were on horseback they couldn’t beg, and they wouldn’t be beggars.”