Part 31 (1/2)

”I have fallen in love with you, that's a fact,” said Miss St. Leger; ”but now, about that picnic; you don't really want to go?”

”Oh, yes, Flora. Lilias is going to drive me in her pony-carriage.”

”Lilias! Let her take a child like herself. You ought to be with the grown-ups.”

”Everyone treats me exactly as if I were a child,” said Ermengarde. ”I do think it's a great shame, for I don't feel in the least like one.”

”Of course you don't, pet. Now listen to me. _I'm_ not going to this stupid, horrid picnic.”

”Aren't you, Flora?”

”No, I'm going to stay at home, and I want you to stay with me. You won't be dull, I promise you.”

”But what excuse can I give?”

”Oh, say you're tired, or have a headache, or something of that sort.”

”But I'm not tired, and I haven't got a headache.”

Flora pouted.

”After all, you are only a baby,” she said. ”I made a mistake; I thought you were different.”

Ermengarde colored all over her face.

”Do you really, really want me, Flora?” she asked timidly.

”Of course I do, sweet pet; now you will oblige me, won't you?”

”I'd certainly like to, Flora.”

”That's a darling. Go back to the house, and lie down on your bed and, when Lilias calls you at the last moment, say you're tired, and you'd like to stay quiet. Of course you _are_ tired, you know; you look it.”

”I suppose I am a little bit,” said Ermengarde. Her heart felt like lead. Her gayety had deserted her, but she was in the toils of a much older and cleverer girl than herself.

She stole softly back to the house, and when Lilias found her lying on her bed, she certainly told no untruth when she said that her head ached, for both head and heart ached, and she hated herself for deceiving her sweet little friend.

The picnic people departed, quietness settled down over the house, and Ermie, who had cried with vexation at the thought of losing that delightful drive and day of pleasure, had dropped into a dull kind of dose, when a knock came to her room door, and Miss St. Leger entered.

”Now, little martyr,” she said, in a cheerful voice, ”jump up, make yourself smart, put on your best toggery, forget your headache, and come downstairs with me. We are going to have some fun on our own account, now, sweet.”

”O Flora, what are you going to do?”

”First of all, we'll have some lunch, and afterward we'll stroll through some woods at the back of the house, and I'll tell you some of my adventures in London last season. Oh, my dear, I did have a time of it! Four entertainments often in one evening! That's what you'll be going through, Ermie, in a year or two.”

”Is it?” said Ermengarde. Her eyes did not sparkle any more. Somehow Flora did not seem as fascinating to her as she had done an hour ago.

Lilias's disappointed face would come back again and again to her memory. She rose, however, and under Flora's supervision put on the smartest of her morning frocks, and went downstairs to lunch.

When the meal had come to an end, and the servants had withdrawn, Ermie asked Flora another question.