Part 31 (2/2)
”Are we _only_ going to walk in the woods?” she said. ”Is that _all_ you asked me to stay at home for!”
”_All_, you silly puss? Well, no, it isn't quite all. We are going to have tea with some friends of mine. We are to meet them in the woods--very nice people--you'll be charmed with them. We're all going to have a gypsy tea together in the woods.”
”But, Flora, I thought you hated picnics?”
”Oh, what a little innocent goose! I hate some kinds. Not the kind I'm going to take you to. Now run upstairs, and put on your hat. It is time for us to be strolling out.”
”But, Flora----”
”No more of your 'buts'--go and get ready. Ah, my sweet child, frowns don't become that charming little face of yours. Now, off with you; put on your most becoming hat, and let us set forth.”
Ermengarde walked upstairs as if her feet were weighted with lead. The uneasy feeling, which had begun to arise in her heart when Flora proposed that she should tell a lie in order to remain at home, deepened and deepened. Ermengarde had lots of faults, but she was a little lady by birth and breeding, and it suddenly occurred to her that Flora's flatteries were fulsome, and that Flora herself was not in what her father would call good style. She was not at all brave enough, however, now, to withstand her companion. She put on her white shady hat, drew gauntlet gloves over her hands, caught up her parasol, and ran downstairs.
Flora was waiting for her. Flora's eyes were bright, and her cheeks flushed.
”Now come,” she said. ”You'll enjoy yourself so much, Ermie, and we must be quick, for we must be back again in the house before our friends return from their picnic.”
”O Flora, are you doing anything wrong?”
Flora's face got crimson all over.
”I was mistaken in you, Ermengarde,” she said. ”I thought you were quite a different sort of girl. I thought you were the kind of girl I could make a friend of. I said so to Kate last night. I offended poor Kate. I made her cry when I said, 'If Ermengarde Wilton was only a year or two older, she'd sympathize with me. I never saw such sympathetic eyes in anyone's face.' Kate was mad with jealousy, but I only wish I had her here now, poor Kate!”
”O Flora, you know I don't mean to be unkind.”
”Of course you don't, love; you were only a silly little goose. Now, come along, we have no time to lose.”
Flora took Ermengarde's hand and the two girls soon found themselves in the magnificent woods at the back of Glendower. These woods covered many acres of land, and were the great pride of the beautiful old place. There were woods at Wilton Chase, but not like these, and Ermengarde stopped several times to exclaim and admire.
Oh, how Basil would have enjoyed this walk! How easily he would have climbed those trees! how merrily he would have laughed! how gay his stories would have been! And Basil might have been here to-day, but for Ermengarde; he might have been here, driving and riding with Lilias; enjoying the woods, and the sea, and the picnic fun.
Basil, who was the best of all boys, the best, and the most honorable, was at home in disgrace because of her. Ermie's heart beat heavily.
Her footsteps slackened. She scarcely heard Flora's gay chatter.
After walking a mile or so, the girls found themselves in the midst of a clearing in the woods. Here some carriages and horses were drawn up, and a gay party of girls, one or two round-faced and stout matrons, and a few young men were standing together.
The girls and the young men raised a noisy shout when they saw Flora, and rushed to meet her.
”How good of you to come, Florrie! We were half afraid you couldn't manage it.”
”Oh, I promised last night,” said Flora hastily. ”I thought George told you. How do you do, George? Maisie, let me introduce to you my great friend, Miss Wilton. Miss Wilton, Miss Burroughs.” Then Flora tripped on in front by the side of the clumsy-looking George, and Ermie found herself standing face to face with Miss Burroughs. She was a loud-voiced, vulgar-looking girl.
”Come along,” she said almost roughly to her little companion. ”I wonder what Flora meant by walking off in that fas.h.i.+on. Well, I don't suppose you want me to chaperon you, Miss--I forget your name.”
”Wilton,” said Ermengarde, in a haughty voice.
”Miss Wilton! I don't know why Flora left you on my hands in that style. She just introduced us and rushed off--just like Florrie, so independent and selfish. I never knew anyone so selfish. But I have my own fun to see after. Oh, there's Florrie in the distance, I'll shout after her. Flora! Florrie! Flora St. Leger!”
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