Part 17 (2/2)

”Come along and let's find Jane Macalister,” exclaimed Molly suddenly.

She caught Nell's hand and rushed with her towards the house.

When Jane was not teaching, she was, generally, cooking, or mending clothes, or putting the store-room in order. Jane never wasted a moment of her time, and she was extremely fond of taking up all the loose threads of work which other people had dropped. When the girls, therefore, now found themselves in the great central hall, and Nell's clear, high voice shouted for Jane, the single word, ”store-room,”

seemed to echo back to them from somewhere in the clouds.

The store-room, where the largest supply of preserves and dried goods was kept, was high up in the old tower--higher up even than the schoolroom.

”You stay downstairs, Nell,” exclaimed Molly; ”I wish to see Jane alone.” She reached the spiral stairs, which she began to mount quickly.

By-and-by with panting breath she arrived at the store-room. The door was open, but there was no Jane.

”Where are you, Jane Macalister?” called Molly.

”Linen press,” called Jane from still higher up.

Molly mounted once more. Jane, with an old pillow-case pinned round her head and a huge ap.r.o.n on, was on her knees sorting feathers.

”What are you doing?” exclaimed Molly.

”Don't speak to me for a moment, Molly; I'm in a perfect rage,”

exclaimed Jane. ”There stand out of the draught, child, or you'll get all this fluff into your hair. I have just discovered that the feathers put into these last pillows were not properly cured, so I've been obliged to take them all out, and I'm sprinkling them with lime. Faugh, what a mess the place is in. This is what comes of taking in an incompetent kitchen-maid like Susan Hicks. She did not half do the work of sorting and curing these feathers. Now, what is it you want, Molly?

You can see for yourself that I'm up to my eyes in work.”

”I can,” said Molly. ”Well, I'll wait for a moment.”

”You'll wait for a moment!” screamed Jane. ”I tell you I shan't have done for hours. There are at least a dozen pillows to be unpicked and their contents well sorted, and sprinkled with lime. I brought up a sandwich in my pocket, and don't mean to come downstairs until the job is done, and well done, too. Nothing frets me like half-finished work, and these pillows would get on my brain at night if I didn't see to them.”

Molly slowly crossed the linen-press room, and stood by the window.

”There, child,” exclaimed Jane, ”you're exactly in my light. If you have anything to say, say it and have done with it. By the way, how is Nora?

I hope they're not spoiling her at the Grange.”

”Nora is getting on nicely, thank you.”

”It was a lucky chance for her,” continued Jane, ”that she happened to be near the Grange when she got hurt. Hester Thornton is sure to give her every comfort. Molly, you're exactly in my light.”

Molly moved to one side of the window.

Jane Macalister went on vigorously with her work, the fluff from the feathers rose in the air, the smell of the lime was pungent.

”Faugh,” continued Jane; ”here's a lump for you. Susan Hicks, you'd better keep out of my way for the present. 'Pon my word! look at this quill, why I could make a pen with it; disgraceful, perfectly disgraceful. Molly, I wish you wouldn't fidget. What in the world do you want to say to me?”

”I want to ask you this,” said Molly. ”Why has mother gone to London?”

Jane bent low over her work, some fluff got into her nose and made her sneeze.

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