She noticed enough, however, to feel a sharp pang of jealousy; and she recognised it as jealousy, which would hardly have been the case a year earlier. Jealousy was so mean, she told herself; it had to be kept down! And she really did try hard.
Soon she saw Merryl making signs to her to join them; and she at once responded, failing to note the disappointment in Fairfax' face. Bestowing herself gaily on a seat close by, she took the lead in a triangular talk, from which Merryl next slipped away, leaving her in possession.
That was delightful! Now she had Ned again all to herself; and there were a hundred things that she wanted to tell him. Merryl never seemed to forget for a moment that Ned was her friend, and that she had—as she would have expressed it—the "first right." That this view of the question made small account of Ned's possible wishes did not occur to her mind.
She began to pour out details of what she had been doing lately, of books she had read and people she had seen. As she rambled on, she awoke to the fact that Ned seemed less interested than he had been before she joined him and Merryl. His eyes and attention both wandered; and his answers went astray. Then, to her utter amazement, on some slight pretext, Ned himself was gone; and in less than a minute she saw him again by Merryl's side.
But she wouldn't be jealous!—She wouldn't!—She wouldn't! So she declared resolutely to herself. Jealousy was so horrid. And Ned had always been kind to the younger ones. Merryl was still only "one of the younger ones!" It was just like dear old Ned to go and amuse her, because she had unselfishly departed—when perhaps he might have liked better to stay and talk with his old chum. He always had been so nice and thoughtful!
[CHAPTER XXXIII]
THIS GLORIOUS WORLD!
"OH, it is a glorious world!" Magda exclaimed.
At six o'clock she had roused up, wide awake. Breakfast would not be until past nine. To waste two more long hours in bed, waiting for an "early" cup of tea was out of the question. The radiant sunshine, the dew-besprinkled lawn, the great cedar of Lebanon with its flat outspread branches, the distant blue hills, all enticed her. So she sprang up and dressed with speed; and after a short time given to her devotions, she ran softly down the wide staircase, meeting no one by the way, and slipped out at a side-door which she noiselessly unbolted.
Everybody else was resting or asleep, unless perhaps in kitchen regions. Only she out here, with sunshine and dew, birds and insects, enjoying herself. Why did not others do the same? If Ned should come, that would mean perfection!