Miss Bess returned to her former place in the window. Miss Baby was contentedly setting out her doll's tea-things on the rug in front of the fire,—at Treluan even in the summer one needs a little fire when there comes a spell of rainy weather. Miss Bess glanced at her, but didn't seem to think she'd find any amusement there. Miss Baby was too young to be fair game for teasing.
'What's Lally doing?' she said suddenly, turning to me. 'Has she hidden herself as usual? I hate secrets. They make people so tiresome. I'll just go and tell her she'd better come in here.'
She turned, as she spoke, to the night nursery.
'Now, Miss Bess, my dear,' I couldn't help saying, 'do not tease the poor child. I'll tell you what you might do. Get one of your pretty books and read aloud a nice story to Miss Lally in the other room, till Master Francis is ready for a game.'
'I've read all our books hundreds of times. I'll tell her a story instead!' she replied.
'That would be very nice,' I could not but say, though something in her way of speaking made me feel a little doubtful, as Miss Bess opened the night nursery door and closed it behind her carefully.
For a few minutes we were at peace. No sound to be heard, except the scratching of Master Francis's busy pen and Miss Augusta's pressing invitations to the dollies to have—'thome more tea'—or—'a bit of this bootiful cake,' and I began to hope that in her quiet way Miss Lally had smoothed down her elder sister, when suddenly—dear, dear! my heart did leap into my mouth—there came from the next room the most terrible screams and roars that ever I have heard all the long years I have been in the nursery!
'Goodness gracious!' I cried, 'what can be the matter. There's no fire in there!' and I rushed towards the door.
To my surprise Master Francis and Miss Baby remained quite composed.
'It's only Lally,' said the boy. 'She does scream like that sometimes, though she hasn't done it for a good while now. I daresay it's only Bess pulling her hair a little.'