Part 32 (2/2)

The old lady now drew Ermengarde's slim hand through her arm, and she found herself forced to walk up and down the greensward in her company.

Mrs. Burroughs was a downright sort of person. After her fas.h.i.+on she was kind to Ermie, but it never entered into her head to flatter her.

She was a gossiping sort of body, and she wanted the child to recount to her all the t.i.ttle-tattle she knew about Glendower. Ermengarde had neither the power nor the inclination to describe the goings on at Glendower graphically. The stout lady soon got tired of her short answers, and began to survey her from head to foot in a critical and not too kindly spirit.

”Dear, dear!” she said, ”what an overgrown poor young thing you are!

But we must all go through the gawky age; we must each of us take our turn. Maisie is just through her bad time, but when she was fourteen, wasn't she a show just! You're fourteen, ain't you, my love?”

”Yes,” said Ermengarde.

”Ah, I thought as much! I said so the moment I set eyes on you. I knew it by your walk. Neither fish, flesh nor good red herring is a maid of fourteen; she's all right once she pa.s.ses seventeen, so you take heart, my love. I dare say you'll be a fine girl then.”

”Mrs. Burroughs,” interrupted Ermengarde, ”I really must look for Flora. It is time for us to be going back. I must find her, and if she won't come, I'll go alone.”

She wrenched her hand away from the stout lady's arm, and before she could prevent her, began running through the woods to look for Flora.

Miss St. Leger was nowhere in sight, so Ermie, feeling her present position past enduring, determined that, whatever happened, she would go back to Glendower. She was fortunate enough to meet one of the gamekeepers, and guided by his instructions presently found herself back in the house. Weary and stiff, her head aching, she crept up to her room, and threw herself on her bed. Oh, what horrid people Flora knew! Oh, what a horrid girl Flora really was!

Ermengarde wondered how she could ever have liked or admired Flora, or made a friend of such a girl. She lay on the bed and listened intently, wondering what would happen if the picnic party returned before Flora chose to put in an appearance. In that case, would she, Ermengarde, be blamed? Would suspicion attach to her? Would her father discover how deceitfully she had behaved?

”He would send me straight home if he knew it,” thought Ermie. ”Oh, what a lot of sc.r.a.pes I've been getting into lately! What with Susy and the miniature, and Miss Nelson and Basil, and now this horrid mean Flora? Oh dear, oh dear? I'm sure I'm not a bit happy. I wish I could get straight somehow, only it's hopeless. I seem to get deeper and deeper into a dark wood every day. Oh dear! there is nothing whatever for me but to hope that things won't be found out.”

There came a gentle knock at Ermengarde's door.

”Come in,” she said, in a shaking voice. Her fears made her tremble at every sound.

Pet.i.te appeared, bringing in a tempting little tray, with tea, and bread-and-b.u.t.ter, and cake. She inquired if Ermengarde knew where Miss St. Leger was. Ermie murmured something which the French maid tried to interpret in vain.

”I'll look for ma'mselle in her room,” she said.

She arranged the tea-tray comfortably for Ermie, and withdrew.

The little girl drank her tea; it soothed and comforted her, and she was just falling into a doze, when her room door was opened without any preliminary knock, and Flora, flushed, panting, and frightened, ran in.

”Ermengarde, they are all returning. They are in the avenue already.

Oh, how cruel of you to come home without me! You might have got me into an awful sc.r.a.pe.”

”I could not help it, Flora. You should not have left me with such people. They are not at all in our set. Father would not wish me to know them.”

”Oh, nonsense! They are as good as anybody.”

”They are not; they are not good at all. They are vulgar and horrid. I am surprised you should have taken me to see such people.”

”Well, well, child, it's all over now. You'll never tell about to-day, will you, Ermengarde?”

”Oh, I suppose not, Flora.”

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