It was useless to resist. The situation had to be accepted. But Bee found it difficult. She was seated facing the light; and she knew that Amy's eyes were full upon her.
"Yes, he is nice," she said quietly. "You don't take sugar, do you, Amy? I haven't quite forgotten your tastes, you see. I can recommend these cakes."
"So—that is the meaning of the dreaminess," thought Amy, in a flash of comprehension. She instantly recognised that the 'friend' must be Ivor. But she would not spare Bee, feeling vexed that she had not been told of his coming, and she asked pointedly: "A friend! What friend? Who did you say it was?"
Magda answered this. "Why—Mr. Ivor. The one who fell into the bergshrund last summer—don't you remember? Rob always declares that Bee saved his life; and Mr. Ivor says the same. He says that but for her he wouldn't be alive now. I should be awfully proud in your place, Bee."
"I don't see what I have to be proud of. It was little enough that I did."
"Other folks didn't think so at the time," remarked Amy. "If you had seen her, Miss Royston—simply glued to the telescope for hours! Nothing would induce her to budge, till she had spotted the climbers. I should never have thought of staying. But then—they were not friends of mine! Don't you see? That makes all the difference."
"How horrid of me! How small of me!" Amy said to herself, as these words slipped out. She knew that she had said them in revenge, because Bee had not informed her of Ivor's coming.
"But, Bee—that was before you had seen Rob. You didn't know him then!"
A slight clash of the milk-jug against a cup showed that Bee's hand was trembling. It seemed hard that Amy, her own old friend, should make things more difficult for her!
"No," she said. "But I knew that he was your brother!"