This was distasteful to me, for I knew it was something which would never be forgotten and might even result in my being sent into an orphanage. After I had committed such a sin Cousin Agatha would in her opinion be justified in sending me away. I suspected that she only needed such justification. I therefore found it difficult to leave the market. Just one more look, I promised myself, and I wended my way through the place keeping my eyes alert for Esmeralda.
Once I thought I caught a glimpse of her and gave chase, but it was a mistake.
It must be getting late. Coming here would have taken half an hour and I must have been here an hour and now there was the journey back.
I went to the omnibus stop and waited. What a long time I waited! I was getting frantic. Silly Esmeralda! I thought, finding some comfort in blaming her. Stupid little thing! Why couldn't she have stayed with me?
At last the omnibus arrived. What was I going to say? What trouble there would be! How could she have found her way home? Oh, what had happened to Esmeralda!
I descended from the omnibus and made my way to the house, intending to creep in by the servants' entrance. I saw with a shudder that the red awning was up and the red carpet down and that guests were arriving. I ran round to the back of the house. Rose was the one to find. She would be most sympathetic. She might well be in the mews, because the Carrington coachman would be there and she wouldn't want to miss a moment of his company.
I went to the mews. She was not there. Oh dear, the only thing for me to do was to go to the house and confess to the first person I saw. Cook? She would be blustering in the kitchen putting the last-minute touches to the dinner. Nanny Grange perhaps, because she knew that I had what she called reckless blood in me and wouldn't blame me so much for what I had done. "It's her blood," she would whisper knowledgeably.
I went in through the servants' entrance. No one seemed to be about. I made my way up the stairs to the hall and then I heard voices.
A policeman stood there, respectful, competent and reassuring, and beside him, looking very small in comparison, was a pale-faced Esmeralda.
"Found wandering," the policeman was saying. "Lost. We brought her home as soon as she told us where, Ma'am."
It was like a tableau and one I believed I should never forget.
Cousin Agatha, aglitter in a low-cut gown twinkling with emeralds and diamonds, and Cousin William Loring, immaculate in his evening clothes, had been brought down to the hall from the top of the staircase where they had been receiving their guests to receive instead their truant daughter brought home by a policeman.
Several guests stood on the stairs. The Carringtons were just arriving—Mr. Carrington, Lady Emily and the great Rollo.
I noticed the intense mortification in every line of Cousin Agatha's statuesque form; her emerald earrings quivered with passionate indignation. Esmeralda began to cry.
"It's all right now, Missy," said the policeman.
"My dear," said Lady Emily, "what on earth has happened?"
Cousin William began: "Our daughter was lost. . ." But he was immediately silenced by Cousin Agatha.
"Where is Nanny? What has she been doing? Esmeralda, go to your room."
Esmeralda saw me suddenly through her tears and cried: "Ellen."
Cousin Agatha turned and her basilisk gaze was directed straight at me.
"Ellen!" she said in a voice full of evil omen.
I came forward. "We only went to the market," I began.
"Wilton!" There he was, urbane, discreet in all his butlerian dignity.
"Yes, Madam," he said. "I will have the young ladies taken to the nursery." And to the policeman: "If you would care to follow me you will be refreshed and our appreciation shown to you. Ah, Madam, here is Nanny."
Nanny Grange appeared; she took me by one hand and Esmeralda by the other. Her anger was apparent in the grip of her fingers. I would have some explaining to do, I was sure, but at the moment I could only be relieved that Esmeralda was safe. There was one other thing that impressed itself on me. And that was the interested blue stare of the Great Rollo. His eyes were fixed temporarily on me. I wondered what he was thinking as Nanny hustled us up the stairs. Guests looked at us curiously. Some of them smiled. Then we were mounting the second stairs on up to the nursery.
"We only thought we'd like to see the market," I explained. "This could well cost me my job," muttered Nanny Grange venomously. "And I know who was at the bottom of this, Miss Ellen, and don't you go trying to put it on Miss Esmeralda. She was led." Esmeralda murmured: "I wanted to go, Nanny." "You were led," said Nanny. "Don't I know Miss Ellen?" "Well, it was my idea," I said. "And you shouldn't blame Esmeralda."
"What Madam is going to say to you, Miss, I don't know. But I wouldn't like to be in your shoes."
We were sent to bed without supper—not that we cared about that—and I lay in bed wondering what life was like in orphanages.
Rosie came in late that night just as the guests were leaving. She was bright-eyed—the way she looked when she had been enjoying the company of her coachman. She sat on the edge of the bed and giggled.
"You are a one. You didn't ought to have took Miss Esmeralda. She was sure to get lost or something."
"How was I to know she'd be so silly!"
"And to go off on your own like that. My word, you're in for trouble."
"I know," I said.
"Well, cheer up. Worse troubles at sea, as my
