Griselda felt a little frightened.  What had she done?  She looked up at the clock.  It seemed just the same as usual, the cuckoo’s doors closely shut, no sign of any disturbance.  Could it have been her fancy only that he had sprung back more hastily than he would have done but for her throwing the book at him?  She began to hope so, and tried to go on with her lessons.  But it was no use.  Though she really gave her best attention to the long addition sums, and found that by so doing she managed them much better than before, she could not feel happy or at ease.  Every few minutes she glanced up at the clock, as if expecting the cuckoo to come out, though she knew quite well there was no chance of his doing so till twelve o’clock, as it was only the hours, not the half hours and quarters, that he told.

“I wish it was twelve o’clock,” she said to herself anxiously more than once.

If only the clock had not been so very high up on the wall, she would have been tempted to climb up and open the little doors, and peep in to satisfy herself as to the cuckoo’s condition.  But there was no possibility of this.  The clock was far, very far above her reach, and there was no high piece of furniture standing near, upon which she could have climbed to get to it.  There was nothing to be done but to wait for twelve o’clock.

And, after all, she did not wait for twelve o’clock, for just about half-past eleven, Miss Grizzel’s voice was heard calling to her to put on her hat and cloak quickly, and come out to walk up and down the terrace with her.

“It is fine just now,” said Miss Grizzel, “but there is a prospect of rain before long.  You must leave your lessons for the present, and finish them in the afternoon.”

“I have finished them,” said Griselda, meekly.

“All?” inquired her aunt.

“Yes, all,” replied Griselda.

“Ah, well, then, this afternoon, if the rain holds off, we shall drive to Merrybrow Hall, and inquire for the health of your dear godmother, Lady Lavander,” said Miss Grizzel.

Poor Griselda!  There were few things she disliked more than a drive with her aunts.  They went in the old yellow chariot, with all the windows up, and of course Griselda had to sit with her back to the horses, which made her very uncomfortable when she had no air, and had to sit still for so long.

Merrybrow Hall was a large house, quite as old and much grander, but not nearly so wonderful as the home of Griselda’s aunts.  It was six miles off, and it took a very long time indeed to drive there in the rumbling old chariot, for the old horses were fat and wheezy, and the old coachman fat and wheezy too.  Lady Lavander was, of course, old too—­very old indeed, and rather grumpy and very deaf.  Miss Grizzel and Miss Tabitha had the greatest respect for her; she always called them “My dear,” as if they were quite girls, and they listened to all she said as if her words were of gold.  For some mysterious reason she had been invited to be Griselda’s godmother; but, as she had never shown her any proof of affection beyond giving her a prayer-book, and hoping, whenever she saw her, that she was “a good little miss,” Griselda did not feel any particular cause for gratitude to her.