thoughts? What were her thoughts? Deep ones I was sure, for her brow was knit. Was she thinking of that brother on whom the Scotch mist was falling so remorselessly?
The Seraph was speaking.
"It's a vewy bad fing to be dead," he was saying reminiscently—, "you can't eat, you can't dwink, an' you jus' fly awound lookin' for somefing to light on!"
I trembled for him, but Mrs. Handsomebody, lost in thought, gave no heed to him.
At last she raised her eyes.
"I hope you behaved yourselves well, and made profitable use of your time during my absence?"
We made incoherent murmurs of assent.
"Name the Channel Islands, John."
"Guernsey, Jersey, Alderney, Sark, and Herm," I replied glibly. So much had I saved from the wreck of things ordained.
"Correct. Are you through your dinners then? You may pass out. Ah, your nose, John; it looks quite red. What caused that?"
I said that I believed I had an inward burning fever. I had embellished Mary Ellen's suggestion.
"I hope you are not going to be ill," she sighed.
It was not until Angel and I were back in the schoolroom, that we discovered the absence of The
[157]
