"I cannot tell you, Mamzelle. I
cannot. I cannot."
"You cannot tell?" repeated Mademoiselle Duroc. "I like not the
mysteries. But I like the less to see you excite yourself into
hysterics. Go downstairs and do not permit yourself to be found here
again at this hour."
Anne dropped the unfinished bag into her box and went slowly downstairs.
Mademoiselle Duroc followed her into the hall, stood there an undecided
moment, then returned to the dormitory and paused beside Anne's box. She
raised the lid, then dropped it, shaking her head.
"It is the most likely some child's nonsense about a string of buttons
or such a matter. It suits not with the sense of dignity for me to
search her box like a dishonest servant maid's," she said and returned
to her room.
That night Anne tossed restlessly about until the other girls were
asleep, then rose with sudden resolve to finish the bag by the moonlight
which poured through the muslin curtains. She laid the trinkets on the
pillow beside Honey-Sweet and stitched away on the bag. A little more, a
very little more, and her work would be done. She would tie the bag
around Honey-Sweet's waist and then surely the troublesome jewels would
be safe.
Pages:
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65