I shall expect you between ten and eleven.
But don't hurry yourselves if anything is going on." And so they went, and the widow was again alone.

The path from the bridge ran straight up towards the back of the Great House, so that for a moment or two she could see them as they tripped on almost in a run.

And then she saw their dresses flutter as they turned sharp round, up the terrace steps.

She would not go beyond the nook among the laurels by which she was surrounded, lest any one should see her as she looked after her girls.

But when the last flutter of the pink muslin had been whisked away from her sight, she felt it hard that she might not follow them.