‘There is no train,’ she said, ‘till the afternoon; and if the things are not sent off, how can she come to claim them? And you could not hang about a railway station waiting. Oh, mother, come home.’ ‘Mab,’ said Jim, making his way to her, ‘I’ll do anything. You can send me anywhere. And let me take Aunt Emily home.’ Lady William rose from among the attendants, recalled to herself by these offers of aid. ‘Mab has always the most sense of all of us,’ she said with a smile. Of course nobody can go when there is no train. Thanks; but I don’t think I need your arm, Jim. No, no; I am not ill at all. I was only much startled to find that Mrs. Brown, who has just gone away so hastily, was an old friend whom I had many reasons for wishing to see: and I never knew she was here.’ ‘Do you know,’ cried Miss Grey, ‘I always thought her face was familiar to me; but I could not put a name to it. Who was she? I ought to have known her, too.’ ‘And she has gone away--without any notice!’ said the General. ‘I never heard of such a thing. The schoolmistress! And what is to be done to fill her place?’ Lady William, under cover of this discussion, which was immediately taken up by the curate and Miss Grey, left the house, which had never before, perhaps, been so invaded by the crowd. The released children were in full _émeute_ outside--those who had not already been secured by their mothers--filling the village street with commotion, and sorely trying the patience of the boys on the other side, who heard but could not understand those sounds of jubilee. To think that there were no means of checking the riot, and that half of the children in the parish had thus an unexpected holiday, was grievous to the soul of Mr. Osborne, who formed a sort of committee instantly in the abandoned house over Mrs. Brown’s boxes. Miss Grey called to Mab that she would come in the afternoon and tell them how things were arranged, as they went away. That little lay-curate could not imagine, sympathetic as she was, that there could be any question so interesting as this. And, indeed, nothing had happened in Watcham for years that had been so exciting. The schoolmistress! without a word of warning, without a thought, apparently, of the embarrassment or trouble it would cause to the parish, without any consideration even of her own interest--for how could she ever obtain another situation, having left her charge like this? People came out to their doors to ask, as Lady William passed, could it be true? and groups stood discussing the strange event all along the street. The schoolmistress! that functionary of all others in an English parish is the least apt to be revolutionary. What could this portent mean? XLVIII It was very hard to get rid of Leo Swinford, but Mab succeeded at last. He insisted on walking with Lady William to the cottage, full of apologies and excuses all the way.