Clever though we deemed her, however, clever though we sometimes deemed ourselves, there was one in the school, younger, yet far more acute than any of us. Thursday was visitors’ day, and Lilly’s brother came to see her. After he had gone, Lilly joined us in the avenue, looking perturbed and mysterious.
“I want to tell you something,” she said lamely. “Viola has got some cigarettes. Jack gave them to her.”
Cigarettes! Dynamite could not have sounded more overwhelming. Cigarettes, and in Viola Milton’s keeping! Never had a whiff of tobacco defiled the convent air. Never had the thought of such unbridled license entered into any heart. And Viola was ten years old.
“I know what that means,” said Tony sharply. “She wants to come with us on the congé.”
Lilly nodded. It was plain that Viola, having possessed herself of a heavy bribe, had persuaded her older sister to open negotiations.
“Well, we won’t have her,” cried Tony vehemently. “Not if she has all the cigarettes in Christendom. Why on earth, Lilly, didn’t you ask your brother for them yourself?”
“I never thought of such a thing,” pleaded Lilly. “I never even heard her do it.”
“Well, we won’t have Viola, and you may go and tell her so,” repeated Tony with mounting wrath. “Go and tell her so right off. We won’t have a child of ten tagging round with us all day.”
“Agnes is only eleven,” said Lilly.
“How many cigarettes has she got?” It was Elizabeth who asked this pertinent question.