And so they talked on, till they were on friendly and familiar terms with each other; and Frederica, reassured and comparatively cheerful, was able without undue excitement to make the acquaintance of Cecilia’s husband, when later he and Col. Bentham came in together.
“Fred love,” said Selina, “tell them about Charlie and Hubert.”
“Ought I, Selina? must I? I am afraid everybody will think I have been very foolish—perhaps wrong.”
“We were alone, and frightened,” said Selina. “And there was no one to tell us what we ought to do.”
“Of course, if we had known that you were all coming to take care of us, it would not have mattered. We could have waited; but we did not know,” said Fred deprecatingly.
And then the story was told, partly by one, and partly by the other, how startled they had been when Selina had heard Charlie’s voice calling to her in the street. They told of their visit to the school out of which the long procession of boys had come, with Madame Precoe and Father Jerome, and how the people there had been so polite and kind, and how they had put all thoughts of the boys being there out of their minds, till Dixen had told them yesterday that he had seen one of them in the long procession of boys again going up the street.
“Was it yesterday, Lena? It seems a long time ago, since Dixen spoke to us in the garden.”
“And the foolish part of the matter is yet to be told,” said her brother.
“Then Fred ran away to tell Caroline. But she did not go there, and I only know that she told Dixen it was ‘all right,’” said Selina.
“It was foolish, I suppose, but then I did not know what else to do.”