"Of course not, Miss Audrey. It isn't likely as I'd tell her. But I can't think why you didn't ask me to post your letter instead of thinking of going off like that yourselves. I'll never forget to the last day of my life how frightened I was when I couldn't find you."
"I didn't want to ask you to post it, because I thought perhaps Mrs. Partridge would find out, and then she'd scold you," I said.
Sarah looked mollified.
"Scoldings don't do much good to anybody, it seems to me," she remarked. "I hope your uncle won't scold you," she added. "He was a good while at that lady's last night, but I shouldn't think she's one to make mischief."
"Did he go last night?" I asked, rather anxiously.
"Yes, Miss Audrey. I gave him the card, and he went off at once. Benjamin"—that was Uncle Geoff's footman—"Benjamin says she's a young lady whose mother died not long ago. He knows where she lives and all, but I didn't remember her—not opening the door often you see. She's a very nice young lady, but counted rather odd-like in her ways. For all she's so rich she's as plain as plain in her dress, and for ever working away among poor children, and that sort of way. But to be sure she's alone in the world, and when people are that, and so rich too, it's well when they give a thought to others."
Here a little shrill voice came from the corner of the room, where Racey was still in his cot.
"What's 'alone in the world'?" he inquired.
Sarah gave a little start.
"Bless me," she said, "I thought he was still asleep. Never mind, Master Racey," she said, turning to him, "you couldn't understand."