Errand-
boys were running, people were hurrying from the shops, voices raised on
every side--a Constable slowly crossed the street--Ryle slipped away--
Joan had gone out at once after breakfast that morning to the little shop,
Miss Milligan's, in the little street behind the Precincts, to see whether
she could not get some of that really fresh fruit that only Miss Milligan
seemed able to obtain. She was for some little time in the shop, because
Miss Milligan always had a great deal to say about her little nephew
Benjie, who was at the School as a day-boy and was likely to get a
scholarship, and was just now suffering from boils. Joan was a good
listener and a patient, so that it was quite late--after ten o'clock--as
she hurried back.
Just by the Arden Gate Ellen Stiles met her.
"Oh, you poor child!" she cried; "aren't you at home? I was just hurrying
up to see whether I could be of any sort of help to you!"
"Any help?" echoed Joan, seeing at once, in the nodding blue plume in
Ellen's hat, forebodings of horrible disaster.
"What, haven't you heard?" cried Ellen, pitying from the bottom of her
heart the child's white face and terrified eyes.
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