"Primrose is
very busy, for she is dusting and packing all our books and little
knick-knacks. Do you know, Miss Martineau, that just when I heard your
ring at the hall-door I came across a pincushion which you gave me
ages and ages ago. You gave it to me when I could say, _Le the est
chaud_ with a Parisian accent. It was such a pretty pincushion made
of pink silk, and dotted over with steel beads to look like pins. Just
when you were ringing the bell I had it in my hand, and I felt so soft
and loving towards you, and of course I had to run out to see you,
and--; Primrose, dearest, here is Miss Martineau. She is dreadfully
opposed, and she says she won't let us go."
Primrose was bending over a battered old trunk which had been hauled
down from the lumber-room. She was filling it with books, and her fair
face was slightly flushed, and her eyes were brighter than usual.
"How do you do, Miss Martineau?" she said, rising to her feet. "It is
very kind of you to call. I feel sure you are annoyed, and think us
girls rather silly, but I'm afraid we must do what we think right
ourselves in this matter. We have taken our first steps, and now that
we have quite and absolutely made up our minds, mean to leave Rosebury
as quickly as possible.
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