“There’s one in my room,” she said, and her tone was full of energy and spirit. “Get it, while I tell Berthe to run for a cab, and you can take the message to the office on your way to tell Velantour.”
Her hand was on the bell as he disappeared. She had snatched up paper and pencil the next second, and was dashing off a note.
“Berthe,” she said, as the little maid hurried in, “you are to go for a cab, and see that it gets here in just fifteen minutes precisely; not before, mind. Tell the cocher that he shall have five francs pourboire if he is exact.”
“Bien, mademoiselle,” said the little maid.
“Post this note to Mrs. Walden, and come back with a second cab in twenty-five minutes, without fail. Either my brother or myself will give you your last instructions for the summer.”
“Bien, mademoiselle,” said the little maid—as she would have said it to any command short of murder.
She sped out, pleasingly stimulated by the silver coin in her palm.
“Has she gone?” demanded Ned, feverishly, as he reappeared with the pen.
“Yes,” said Elenore. “Write your message and read it off to me when you’ve done it, will you? I want to tuck some things into the bag that’s going to America.”
She nodded, smilingly, as she sped into his room.