“Well, you’ll do. Just you tell her that I’ve gone to the sale over at Warren’s, but say that I leave it to her to look after that young master down in the orchard. If he keeps pretty quiet, she can let him out in another hour, but not any sooner, mind you that.”
“All right, Master,” said Polly, “I don’t expect that Libbie will be in much of a hurry about it, the longer he is kept out of mischief the better, she will think.”
“Well, remember to tell her, any way.”
“Oh! I’ll remember,” said Polly, and straightway forgot all about it.
And little wonder! Presently no one in the household—not even Mrs. Busson who had wept over Andrew’s punishment; not even Nanny, who had so carefully planned it—had a thought to bestow on the culprit in the orchard.
For Dr. Forbes had paid his visit, and his verdict on Diana’s condition had filled everyone with grief and dismay. She was so much worse after her restless, suffering night, and her temperature was so high, that it was impossible to say if she would recover from the effect of the terrible shock that her whole system had sustained.
At any rate, Mrs. Durand must be summoned at once.
“Lose no time in wiring for her,” the doctor had said, as he left, promising to return towards evening.
“Poor lady, poor Miss Agatha,” sighed Mrs. Busson, “to think of all the trouble she has had already, losing the Colonel when Miss Marygold wasn’t out of long clothes, and then for this to happen now, and to think that she’s away in Edinburgh, and that she can’t get here before to-morrow morning at earliest.”
Thus it happened that it was not till after the doctor had paid his evening visit, in the course of which, he chanced to ask if Andrew had been much stung, that Mrs. Busson remembered the latter’s existence.