"I'm just bringing the coffee in, Miss Pamela," said Ellen.
While Martha took the boiled eggs out of the saucepan with a self-conscious expression on her face, and in her efforts to appear unconcerned dropped one, and it broke on the kitchen floor. In the unnecessary energy she put into the work of clearing it up she was able to hide her embarrassment and regain her composure.
This was not lost on Pamela, who felt that there was a certain atmosphere of mystery in the kitchen—which was entirely foreign to the light, sunny room, with its shining brass and purring kettle, and delicious smell of baking bread.
"Is anything the matter, Martha?" she could not help asking, when calm was restored and the broken egg replaced. "There's nothing wrong, is there?"
Martha and Ellen exchanged quick glances, and then Martha laughed.
"Why, bless my heart, why should there be?" she replied. "Of course there's nothing wrong." And she laughed again.
But Pamela felt vaguely uneasy—why, she did not know. She ate her breakfast thoughtfully, and did not talk half so much as she usually did at breakfast-time. All the girls were more silent than usual, as if the coming events of the day were already casting their shadows over them.
As soon as breakfast was finished Martha appeared suddenly in the dining-room doorway and said,
"I was to ask you all if you would please step up and see Miss Crabingway now.... She is in her own room...."
The girls looked at each other in astonishment. Miss Crabingway here! In her own room! The locked-up room? When did she arrive? None of them had heard her come.