ld make herself
heard, "your mamma wished me to say as she hoped you were remembering
about finishing your lessons early, for Miss Campbell's train is due at
Stapleham at five, and your papa's ordered the carriage at four, and
will be annoyed if you're not ready. And Miss Patty, I was to say," she
was continuing, when suddenly she caught sight of "the baby" still on
the table, in a sad state of crush and discomposure, as, Jack and Max
having already rushed off, all the remaining children were fighting for
her possession. "Now that is too bad, I do declare! What are you all
pulling and dragging at the dear child for? Making her cry, too. Miss
Maggie, you've been teasing her, I'm certain--you're always in mischief.
I'm sure I don't know whatever nurse will say--Miss Hangela's frock just
clean on! I'm sure I hope Miss Campbell will keep you in better order, I
do; for since your mamma's been ill, it's just dreadful the way you go
on."
"I didn't make her cry," "And I'm sure I didn't," cried Patty and Edith
at once.
"Then it's Miss Maggie, as usual; you come too, Miss Florence,"
said Dawson, as she walked off with the rescued Towzer in her arms
and Flop at her heels, taking no notice of Maggie's indignant
exclamation--"You're a nasty, horrid, cross thing, Dawson! and I only
hope Miss Campbell will set you down when she comes."
Great things were evidently expected of "Miss Campbell," and by no one
in the house was her return looked for more eagerly than by her invalid
mother, who had of late found the care of her many boys and girls,
weigh heavily on her. For this reason Eleanor, the eldest daughter of
the family, a girl of seventeen, had been recalled from a school in
Paris sooner than would otherwise have been the case, and it was her
expected arrival this very evening that had caused all the playroom
commotion. It was a year, fully a year, since she had been at home, and
it was no wonder that all her brothers and sisters rejoiced at her
return, for she was kind and unselfish, bright and merry, and the old
Manor House without her had lost half its sunshine.
Five o'clock--all the children are already at the windows, some at the
door, though "she cannot be here till six or half-past," says mamma; and
nurse valiantly refuses to put on Towzer's second clean frock for
another hour at least.
Six o'clock at last--five minutes, ten minutes, a quarter past--oh, how
slowly the time goes! At last wheels, unmistakable wheels
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