The children looked at each other. “Whatever shall we say?” said Audry. “We must not say what is not true,” answered Aline. “No, but we cannot tell them everything.” “It is very difficult.” “Could you not say that you fell on a rock, Aline?” “That is not what I mean is difficult.” “I do not understand.” “I mean it is difficult to know how to speak the truth. Even if we do not say what is untrue we let them think wrongly.” “Well, we cannot help that, Aline.” “I do not know, it seems to me that it comes to the same thing as if we told them a falsehood.” “Oh, bother them; if they ask no questions they will get told no stories.” Aline’s mind was not satisfied; but, after all their calamities, fortune now favoured the children. There came a knock at the door and Elspeth, Audry’s old nurse, came in. “You are rather late this morning,” she said, and then she noticed that Aline was still in bed, “and one of you not up. Marry now, but it is a good thing for you that Mistress Mowbray has other things to think of this morning. She has just received an urgent letter from her sister at Appleby to say that she has been taken sick, and will she come over without delay. The serving man that brought the letter has only just now returned homeward.” “What is the matter with Aunt Ann?” asked Audry. “Oh, it is nothing to fret yourself about, hinnie,” the old woman went on, “but such an upset and turmoil in the house you never saw. Mistress Mowbray is carrying he were to be staying there the rest of her life; and Appleby only those few miles away too. Well, I must hurry away; I have more to do than I can manage.” “Oh, nurse, can Aline stay in bed this morning? She is not very well; she hurt herself a little yesterday. I will bring up her breakfast; it is nothing serious.” “All right, dearie,--it’s nothing serious?” she repeated as she heard Mistress Mowbray’s voice calling angrily from the bottom of the stairs. “I am glad of that, but I must go,” and she departed. Aline had kept her face away so that Elspeth should not see how ill she looked. The children were much relieved when they heard the footsteps die away. In a way Aline’s illness even helped them, as it enabled Audry to take up food without suspicion, and it was thus possible, owing to the general confusion in the house, to lay in a small supply for the other invalid below. The next morning Aline was considerably better, having the marvellous recuperative power of childhood, but it was clear that she would not be herself for some time. “You do look a sight, you know,” said Audry, throwing her arms round her neck. “Your eyelids and all round the eyes up to the eyebrow are still black. Whatever shall we do now, because nurse will certainly come up to-day?”