"No," she said, "I don't think it is."
We were in the street by this time, walking along pretty quickly, for it was still raining a little and very cold. But we didn't mind it. Miss Goldy-hair knew the way so well. She turned down one or two small side streets, and then in a minute we found ourselves at Uncle Geoff's.
Walking along with her we had felt so well taken care of that we had almost forgotten our fears of what might meet us at home. But now, actually on the door-steps, they returned.
"Don't ring, Miss Goldy-hair, please," I said. "Let's see first if the door is still open."
Strange to say it was! After all, though it has taken so long to tell, not more than three-quarters of an hour had passed since we went out, and it was a quiet time of evening. No one had happened to ring at the bell. But as we pushed open the door, the first thing we saw was Sarah—flying down-stairs in a terrible fright, as white as a sheet and looking nearly out of her mind. She had missed us out of the dining-room and had rushed up to the nursery to look for us, and not finding us there did not know what to think.
She gave a sort of scream when she saw us.
"Oh dear! oh dear!" she cried. "Where have you been? Oh, Miss Audrey, how could you! Oh dear! you have frightened me so."
But before we said anything Tom and I ran forward with the same question.
"Has Mrs. Partridge come in?" and oh! how thankful we were when Sarah shook her head.
"Thank goodness, no!" she said.