England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Humorous stories; Schools -- Fiction; Teenage girls -- Fiction
I could not but think that poor Achille had escaped unhurt, though at
times I went through the same suffering as I did on the morning after
the discovery in the conservatory;--and really, when one comes to think
of it, it is wonderful that no suspicion ever attached to either Achille
or myself over that dreadful set-out. Breakfast over, I seemed to
revive a little; though I must confess that what roused me more than
anything was Miss Furness finding out that I looked pale and red-eyed,
and saying that she thought I required medicine.
"For you know, Miss Bozerne, a little foresight is often the means of
arresting a dangerous illness; so I think I shall call Mrs de Blount's
attention to your state."
"Oh, please, don't, ma'am," I said. "I assure you that I feel
particularly well this morning."
But she only gave one of her self-satisfied smiles and bows; when in
came the tall footman to say that the gardener wished to speak with
"missus."
"Missus" was not there, so the footman went elsewhere to find her; but
the very mention of that gardener brought my heart to my mouth, as
people say; though I really wonder whether that is true--I should like
to know. Then I had a fit of trembling, for I made sure that he had
found poor Achille, lying where he had crawled, with all his bones
broken, in some out-of-the way corner of the garden; perhaps, possibly,
to slake his fevered thirst in my favoured spot, close by the ferns, and
the miserable fountain that never played, green and damp beneath the
trees.
But I could not afford to think; for just then the door was opened, and
Mrs Blunt stood with it ajar, talking to the gardener in the hall, and
of course I wanted to catch what he said; when, just as if out of
aggravation, the girls made a terrible buzzing noise. But I heard
enough to tell me that it was all about the past night, and I caught a
word here and there about bushes broken, and big footsteps, and
trampled, and so on; while, as a conclusion to a conversation which had
roused my spirits by telling me that poor Achille had not been found,
Mrs Blunt placed a terrible damper upon all by saying--
"It must have been the policeman, gardener; and he shall be spoken to
respecting being more careful. But for the future we'll have a big dog,
and he shall be let loose in the garden every night."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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