once?' said Lady Cuxhaven. 'This going by instalments is the most
tiresome thing that could be imagined.' So at last there had been a
great hurry and an unmethodical way of packing off every one at once.
Miss Browning had gone in the chariot (or 'chawyot,' as Lady Cumnor
called it;--it rhymed to her daughter, Lady Hawyot--or Harriet, as the
name was spelt in the _Peerage_), and Miss Phoebe had been speeded
along with several other guests, away in a great roomy family
conveyance, of the kind which we should now call an 'omnibus.' Each
thought that Molly Gibson was with the other, and the truth was, that
she lay fast asleep on Mrs. Kirkpatrick's bed--Mrs. Kirkpatrick _nee_
Clare.

The housemaids came in to arrange the room. Their talking aroused
Molly, who sate up on the bed, and tried to push back the hair from her
hot forehead, and to remember where she was. She dropped down on her
feet by the side of the bed, to the astonishment of the women, and
said,--'Please, how soon are we going away?'

'Bless us and save us! who'd ha' thought of any one being in the bed?
Are you one of the Hollingford ladies, my dear? They are all gone this
hour or more!'

'Oh, dear, what shall I do? That lady they call Clare promised to waken
me in time. Papa will so wonder where I am, and I don't know what Betty
will say.'

The child began to cry, and the housemaids looked at each other in some
dismay and much sympathy. Just then, they heard Mrs Kirkpatrick's step
along the passages, approaching. She was singing some little Italian
air in a low musical voice, coming to her bedroom to dress for dinner.