To crown all, she was going to start immediately by the omnibus to Falaise, and on by rail to Paris, not waiting for the storm to burst.  She kissed me on both cheeks, bade me adieu, and was gone, leaving me in utter darkness, before I fairly comprehended the rapid French in which she conveyed her intention.  I groped to the window, and saw the glimmering of her lamp, as she turned into the cart-shed, on her way to the other house.  Before I could dress and follow her, she would be gone.

I had seen my last of Monsieur and Madame Perrier, and of Mademoiselle Morel.

I had time to recover from my consternation, and to see my position clearly, before the dawn came.  Leagues of land, and leagues of sea, lay between me and England.  Ten shillings was all that was left of my money.  Besides this, I had Minima dependent upon me, for it was impossible to abandon her to the charity of foreigners.  I had not the means of sending her back to Mrs. Wilkinson, and I rejected the mere thought of doing so, partly because I dared not run the risk, and partly because I could not harden myself against the appeals the child would make against such a destiny.  But then what was to become of us?

I dressed myself as soon as the first faint light came, and hurried to the other house.  The key was in the lock, as mademoiselle had left it.  A fire was burning in the school-room, and the fragments of a meal were scattered about the table.  The pupils up-stairs were preparing for their own departure, and were chattering too volubly to one another for me to catch the meaning of their words.  They seemed to know very well how to manage their own affairs, and they informed me their places were taken in the omnibus, and a porter was hired to fetch their luggage.

All I had to do was to see for myself and Minima.

I carried our breakfast back with me, when I returned to Minima.  Her wan and womanly face was turned toward the window, and the light made it look more pinched and worn than usual.  She sat up in bed to eat her scanty breakfast—­the last meal we should have in this shelter of ours—­and I wrapped a shawl about her thin shoulders.

“I wish I’d been born a boy,” she said, plaintively; “they can get their own living sooner than girls, and better.  How soon do you think I could get my own living?  I could be a little nurse-maid now, you know; and I’d eat very little.”

“What makes you talk about getting your living?” I asked.

“How pale you look!” she answered, nodding her little head; “why, I heard something of what mademoiselle said.  They’ve all run away, and left us to do what we can.  We shall both have to get our own living.  I’ve been thinking how nice it would be if you could get a place as housemaid and me nurse, in the same house.  Wouldn’t that be first-rate?  You’re very poor, aren’t you, Aunt Nelly?”

“Very poor!” I repeated, hiding my face on her pillow, while hot tears forced themselves through my eyelids.