"But you look queer. Are you frightened about anything?""I hope not, Bridget."
"I've had enough," she said, nodding to Mrs. Freeman in her bright way. "I'm going out into the garden now, to pick some roses."
Mrs. Freeman left her pupil's room, and went downstairs.
"Nothing," replied Janet. "I—I—shall I run out to the front, Mrs. Freeman, and listen if I can hear the carriage? You can hear it a very long way off from the brow of the hill."
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"If I had only some smelling salts," she began.
The child's words were almost incoherent. Alice, who was not quite so excitable, began to pour out a queer story.A story book, belonging to the school library, happened to be lying on a chair close to her own. She took it up, opened it, and began to read. The tale was sufficiently interesting to cause her to forget her troubles.
"Evelyn Percival. Doesn't it sound pretty?"
"You can please yourself about that," said Miss Patience, in her calmest voice. She left the room, closing the door behind her.