'No,' said Serena. 'But I know the house. It is a corner one, and it has blue and white flower-boxes. What do you want to know about it for?'
Anne looked round—no, there was no sign of nurse; she and Serena were alone.
'Serry,' she said in a whisper, 'I've thought of something,' and then she went on to tell Serry what it was.
That's all I'll tell just now; the rest will come soon. Till you try, you've no idea how difficult it is to tell a story—or even not a regular story, just an account of simple things that really happened—at all properly. The bits of it get so mixed. It's like a tangle of thread—the ends you don't want keep coming up the wrong way, and putting themselves in front of the others. I must just go on as well as I can, and put down the things as straight as they'll come.
Well, Hebe and I had about finished the lessons we wanted to get done. It was partly that Monday was going to be mother's birthday, and we wanted to have a clear evening. Hebe and I always agree about things like that; we like to look forward and arrange comfortably. Well, we had just about finished, and I was getting up to begin putting away the books, when the door opened and nurse came in looking just the least little bit vexed. For she is good-natured.
She glanced round the room before she spoke, as if she was looking for some one not there.
'The child's right,' she said, as if speaking to herself. 'I must say she generally is. Master Jack,' she went on, 'and Miss Hebe, my dears, tea's ready. But where are Miss Warwick and Miss Serry?'
We stared.
'Anne and Serry,' I said. 'I'm sure I don't know. Upstairs, I suppose. They went straight up with Maudie when we came in, ever so long ago.'
'But indeed they're not upstairs,' said nurse, her face growing very uneasy. 'That's what Miss Maud said too. She saw them go into the nursery when she ran along to my room. But they are not there, nor in any of the bedrooms; I've looked everywhere, and called too.'