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sat up in bed on hearing the noise of the retreating wheels of the carriage, and cast the clothes from her. The plan had gone quite excellently up till now, and under the same inspiring hand it would no doubt continue to prosper. Aunt Cathie and Maud, of course, had come tip-toeing into her bedroom to ask how she was, and to suggest putting off the expedition, and she had had a perfectly sound reply. The expedition could not be put off, since the old English fair was on this day and no other, and as for herself, she begged nobody to worry. It was just a headache: quite horrid, but the only plan was to let her lie quiet, to turn her face to the wall, like Hezekiah, and wait till it was better. It was a bore—oh yes, a dreadful, dreadful bore, and it could not have come on a more inconvenient day; but as it was there, there it was, and the thought of anybody waiting behind and not going to Trew made it feel worse. They must all go and enjoy themselves, and tell her about it in the evening. Probably her head would be all right by then. She only insisted that they should all go, and not attempt to return early in order to keep her company. When her head was like this, she did not want company. She just wanted to shut her eyes, and wait till it was better. Yes; she thought it was coming on last night, when she did not want any dinner. "No, darling Aunt Cathie, if you talk of lunch," she said, "I shall be sick. Please just leave me alone. I am so sorry for being so unfriendly, but I only want to lie still. Oh, and I do hope you will have a nice day. Good-bye!"

So before very long the carriage wheels crunched the ground, and Lucia sat up. Then she got out of bed and bolted her door in case of surprises. It was all dreadfully mean and infinitesimal, but she never neglected details. Then she put on a dressing-gown, ate the breakfast she had not yet touched, and carefully pulled a chair out on her balcony, where, under the sunblinds, she could sit unobserved.