When evening came, things did not go as she had hoped. In their own home Pen, as eldest, was automatically more to the fore; and Magda, as the younger, had to submit to being second. Mr. Royston too engrossed a large share of their chief guest. One brief ten minutes' chat with him Magda had towards the close; only enough to make her want more; and then Mr. Royston again took possession, and her enjoyment was cut short.
So she gained little by her disregard of Bee's interests. She had been worsted in her fight, and had flung away another of life's opportunities; and all for nothing. She went to bed feeling indignant and very flat.
And next day the young barrister returned to his busy life in town, without having again met Bee.
That morning Merryl and Frip, as they walked down High Street, saw her coming out of a shop; and she stopped at once to speak to them. Frip was still a small child; but Merryl, since her illness, had shot up rapidly. She had grown much slighter; and her face, though perhaps not strictly pretty, was very attractive, with its look of sunny repose.
"I hope Mrs. Major is better," she said. "We were so sorry to hear about her."
"Thanks, dear; she is getting all right again. She had quite a long drive yesterday."
Frip's shrill little pipe made itself heard before Merryl could reply.
"Why!"—came in astonished accents. "Why, mother wanted to have you to dinner last night. And Magda said it wouldn't be any use, because you couldn't come. And she thought it was influenza."
Bee flushed.
"No, no—Magda only fancied it might be that. She wasn't sure," explained Merryl, always anxious to smooth things down. "She had not been to ask for a day or two, I think."