CHAPTER VII. “COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE.”
Miss De Sor and Miss Wyvil were still sitting together under the trees, talking of the murder at the inn.
“And is that really all you can tell me?” said Francine.
“That is all,” Cecilia answered.
“Is there no love in it?”
“None that I know of.”
“It’s the most uninteresting murder that ever was committed. What shall we do with ourselves? I’m tired of being here in the garden. When do the performances in the schoolroom begin?”
“Not for two hours yet.”
Francine yawned. “And what part do you take in it?” she asked.
“No part, my dear. I tried once—only to sing a simple little song. When I found myself standing before all the company and saw rows of ladies and gentlemen waiting for me to begin, I was so frightened that Miss Ladd ha
