"Millie knows somebody in Bath too," Nona remarked. "And she has written to Millie about Captain Lenox."
"Very likely," I answered. "Bath is a large place."
Whispers again. I thought I heard—"Carries it off well! But you know how she looked at—"
This was in Miss Millington's voice. Nona's followed; and I said gravely—
"Nona, I don't know what you and Maggie think, but I am very sure that your mother would not approve of such conduct. Whispering before others is a most unladylike trick. If you have secrets to discuss, you should either go into the dining-room, or ask me to leave you alone."
"Is that meant for me, Miss Conway?" demanded Miss Millington, with a furious flare-up. "Come, girls! We will go!"
And I was left alone, feeling strangely bruised and stunned. Was I right to speak so to Nona just then? Was it wise or unwise? I cannot judge yet. I am writing to-night, because sleep seems impossible: and now I am too tired to write more. How I could love those girls, if they would let me! But they will not. And "Millie" is the hindrance.
Things cannot go on so much longer. Sometimes I feel as if I must write fully to Nellie. Ought I to speak first to Miss Millington? Would she hear me? And what if I was betrayed into saying what I should afterward regret?
August 19. Wednesday.—The excursion to Gurglepool has been put off till to-morrow. We actually made the start to-day, and were turned back by rain.
I saw almost nothing of the girls all the morning,—except Thyrza, who is really distressed at Maggie's manner to me, though she does not know what passed yesterday evening, after she left the drawing-room.