Lydia grew very red.
"Miss Geraldine won't know about them all, I'm afraid," she began. "She has not been used to taking the charge of her things yet."
"Then the sooner she learns the better," said Miss Aspinall, and Lydia dared not persist. She turned to me, looking ready to burst out crying again, though, as she had been doing little else for three days, one might have thought her tears were exhausted.
"Good-bye, dear Miss Geraldine," she said, half holding out her arms. I flew into them. I was beginning to feel very strange.
"Good-bye, dear Lydia," I said.
"You will write to me, Miss Geraldine?"
"Of course I will; I know your address," I said. Lydia was going to her own home to work with a dressmaker sister in hopes of coming back to us at the end of the two years.
"Miss Le Marchant" (I think I have never said that our family name was Le Marchant), said a cold voice, "I really cannot wait any longer; you must come upstairs at once to take off your things."
Lydia glanced at me.