Two or three hours afterwards the fly--the same fly--drove up again to Mulberry House. The same flyman was on the box.
"Sarah," he whispered from behind his hand, probably taught prudence by experience, "here's two more stutters."
II.
Mrs. Harland was superintending the putting out of the "clean things." It was Saturday. On Sundays, at Mulberry House, all the pupils "changed."
"If you please, ma'am, there's a person in the drawing-room who says she's Mrs. Bindon."
"Mrs. Bindon!" Mrs. Harland was lifting a pile of clean linen. It fell from her hands. Day-shirts and night-shirts were scattered on the floor. The lady eyed the maid standing in the doorway as though she were some creature of strange and fearful import. "Whom did she ask to see?"
"She asked to see the schoolmaster."
"The schoolmaster?"
Mrs. Harland pursed her lips.
"Yes, ma'am. She didn't mention any name. And master's out."