“I am looking at it. I see nothing but that vase, smashed to pieces; and I cannot sleep at night for fear I'll dream how it looked in those very little bits.”
“Sister—pray—pray—”
“And if you want me to tell you what I think should be done, I'm sure I can't say,” added Miss Anstice helplessly.
“Well, then, I must think,” declared Miss Salisbury, with sudden energy, “for some repayment must surely be made to him, although they utterly refused it when you and I called and broached the subject to them.”
“It was certainly a most unfortunate day from beginning to end,” said Miss Anstice, with a suggestion of tears in her voice, and a shiver at the remembrance of the front breadth of her gown. “Sister, I hope and pray that you will never have another picnic for the school.”
“I cannot abolish that annual custom, Anstice,” said Miss Salisbury firmly, “for the girls get so much enjoyment out of it. They are already talking about the one to come next year.”
“Ugh!” shuddered Miss Anstice.
“And anything that holds an influence over them, I must sustain. You know that yourself, sister. And it is most important to give them some recreations.”
“But picnics!” Miss Anstice held up her little hands, as if quite unequal to any words.
“And I am very sorry that we were out when Mr. Clemcy and his sister called yesterday afternoon, for I am quite sure I could have arranged matters so that we need not feel under obligations to them.”