“Near the lodge would be best,” he said. “The bushes are thick, and he must pass there. But it’s cold, Mary, and we can’t possibly go upstairs to get your things. Artie and I have got our caps and comforters in the hall. And if we left you here Emma would find you.”
“No, no,” said Mary, dancing about in her eagerness, “don’t leave me here, Leigh. There’s shawls in the hall. Can’t you wrap me up in one of them? I’ll be quite good. I won’t fuss about at all.”
So it was settled. The three set off as silently as they could to the hall, where they caught up the best wraps they could find. Then they made their way through the big drawing-room, which opened into a conservatory, out by a side path to the drive.
Five minutes after they had left the study Emma came to look for them, but found the birds flown. She took no further trouble; for, to tell the truth, she was not sorry to keep out of the children’s way; her own conscience was not at all at rest, and she had made up her mind to write to her mother asking for her to come home at once.
Though it was two miles to the village it did not take long to drive there, and Mr Bertram luckily caught Mr Wiseman the doctor just as he was starting on his rounds.
Mr Wiseman was driving a young horse; he went well, but he was rather timid, and apt to shy when anything startled him. The lodge gates were open; as the children’s papa had told the woman that the doctor would be coming, so he drove in without stopping. But, oh dear! Scarcely had he got a few yards up the avenue before there was a great fuss. The young horse was dancing and shaking with fear, and if the groom had not jumped down and got to his head more quickly than it takes me to tell it, who knows what might not have happened.
What had frightened him so?
Three funny-looking little figures had sprung out from among the bushes, calling out in eager but melancholy tones—
“Mr Wiseman, Mr Wiseman, please stop. Oh please stop.”