Bravely she fought against the discomfort, but it gained upon her.
She began to meditate whether her family had perhaps not been sufficiently punished.
"I've been away a whole day," she reflected, "and a whole night, and I guess they've felt badly enough. Very likely they've all sat up waiting for me to come back. They'll be sorry they acted so, and, any way, I'm so dreadfully hungry that I must have something to eat! And I want to see mamma too. Perhaps she'll have repented, and will say, 'Poor Elly! She may go.'"
In short, Elly was seized with a sudden desire for home, and, always rapid in decision, she lost no time in wriggling herself out of the bush.
"There, it's gone!" chirped the female robin. "I'm glad of it. I hope it will never come back."
Very cautiously Elly crept through the shrubbery on to the lawn. It still seemed dark, but she now perceived that the gloom came from a great thunder-cloud which was gathering overhead. She could not see the sun, and, confused with her long sleep, was not able to make out what part of the day it was; but, somehow, she felt that it was not the early morning as in the bush she had supposed.
Across the lawn she stole, and upon the piazza. No one was visible. The open window showed the dining-table set for something,—was it tea? Upstairs she crept, and, looking in at the door as she went by, she saw her mother in her room taking off her bonnet.
"My poor child, where did you think we had gone?" she called out. "Papa was kept in town till the second train, and that was late, so we have only just got back. You must be half starved, waiting so long for your dinner. I hope nurse gave you some bread and milk."
"Why,—what day is it?" stammered the amazed Elly.
"Day? Why, Elly, have you been asleep? It's to-day, of course,—Thursday. What did you think it was?"