"You hate and despise me because I have no one who belongs to me in the world," continued Meg. "You call me a gypsy girl and a tramp, that's what you call me. I don't care if you hate and despise me. I can't help what I was born, and I don't want to help it. What I know is that I have not taken that diamond."
A murmur ran round the room, but Meg did not pause to consider its nature. She turned in her ungovernable indignation, and pushing through her companions she flung open the door and slammed it after her. Again she caught a glimpse of Elsie's terrorized face and figure as she rushed past.
She went out into the playground to breathe the fresh air, trembling with fury. The old wild self had returned to her, taking with it seven devils. Her heart felt too big for her breast. Tearless sobs shook her as with all the vehemence of her spirit she repelled the charge brought against her.
Then again she seemed to see before her the wretched, cringing little figure of Elsie, and the large eyes fixed wistfully upon her. A suspicion fell cold and terrible on Meg's heart and checked her wrath. She had vaguely interpreted that look as an entreaty not to reveal Elsie's admiration for the gem. It seemed now to convey another meaning. How could she see that child alone, get a few secret words with her?
She went indoors, and in the hall she met Elsie, like a little ghost, furtively creeping out, holding something in her shaking hand.
"What is it, Elsie?"
"They are going to search our things, everybody's things," gasped Elsie. "I am going to throw it away."
"Throw what away?" asked Meg energetically.
"The diamond," the convulsive voice of the child answered; and still she held something tight hidden in the small shaking hand covered with a network of blue veins.
"Oh, Elsie, did you take the diamond?" asked Meg sadly.