'Mr. Barstow has gone himself,' she said. 'We've been looking out Rodney Square in the red book; we found Mr. Barry's—it's No. 37—fast enough, but we can't say which is the other lady's, as you've no idea of the name. There's ever so many might do for it; the very next door is a Sir Herbert Mortimer's.'
'No, it was a short name, I'm sure of that. Aren't you, Hebe?' I said.
'Now, my dears, why didn't you say so before?' said nurse. 'A short name would have been some guide.'
'But it was far the best to go straight to the Barrys,' said Maud, which was certainly quite true.
Just then the front bell rang.
'Oh,' said nurse, 'if only it could be the young ladies before your mamma comes in!'
But no, it was not Anne and Serena. It was mums herself.
She seemed to know by instinct that there was something wrong. She glanced up and saw our heads all looking over the railing.
'What is it?' she said. 'Are you all there, dears?'
Nurse and we three looked at each other. It was no use hiding it. So we went on downstairs to the hall.