Gillian had some experience through her elder brothers, and suspected Master Varley of being guilty of heightening the horrors; so she assured Fergus that most boys had the same sort of Christian names, but were afraid to confess them to one another, and so called each other Bill and Jack.  She advised him to call himself by his surname, not to mention his father’s title if he could help it, and, above all, not to seem to mind anything.

Her own spirits were much exhilarated the next morning by a note from Harry, the recipient of all telegrams, with tidings that the doctors were quite satisfied with Sir Jasper, and that Lady Merrifield had reached Brindisi.

There was great excitement at sight of a wet morning, for it appeared that an omnibus came round on such occasions to pick up the scholars; and Valetta thought this so delightful that she danced about exclaiming, ‘What fun!’ and only wishing for Mysie to share it.  She would have rushed down to the gate umbrellaless if Aunt Jane had not caught and conducted her, while Gillian followed with Fergus.  Aunt Jane looked down the vista of young faces—–­five girls and three boys-—­nodding to them, and saying to the senior, a tall damsel of fifteen,

’Here are my children, Emma.  You will take care of them, please.  You are keeping order here, I suppose?’

There was a smile and bow in answer as the door closed, and the omnibus jerked away its ponderous length.

‘I’m sorry to see that Stebbing there,’ observed the aunt, as she went back; ’but Emma Norton ought to be able to keep him in order.  It is well you have no lessons out of the house to-day, Gillian.’

‘Are you going out then?’

‘Oh yes!’ said Miss Mohun, running upstairs, and presently coming back with a school-bag and a crackling waterproof cloak, but pausing as she saw Gillian at the window, nursing the Sofy, and gazing at the gray cloud over the gray sea.  ’You are not at a loss for something to do,’ she said, ‘you said you meant to write to your mother.’

‘Oh yes!’ said Gillian, suddenly fretted, and with a sense of being hunted, ‘I have plenty to do.’

‘I see,’ said Miss Mohun, turning over the books that lay on the little table that had been appropriated to her niece, in a way that, unreasonably or not, unspeakably worried the girl, ’Brachet’s French Grammar—–­that’s right.  Colenso’s Algebra—–­I don’t think they use that at the High School.  Julius Caesar—–­you should read that up in Merivale.’

‘I did,’ said Gillian, in a voice that very nearly said, ’Do let them alone.’

’Well, you have materials for a very useful, sensible morning’s work, and when Ada comes down, very likely she will like to be read to.’