With that she gave a little hysterical laugh which ended with passionate crying.
“I am a baby, there! I am ashamed of myself. Let me run and put away my toggery, and maybe I shall come to my senses.”
The children were washed and brushed. Stuart had just come in, and we sat down to the table. Fanny entered presently, but she neither ate nor drank, and seemed to be quite unlike herself.
Indeed, I do not think she came to her senses until she and mamma had a good long talk, she lying in her fresh, cool bed. The friendly dusk hid her scarlet cheeks, but it could not keep her voice steady. All the naughtiness was confessed except the little that could not be told until long afterward, when events justified it.
“My dear girl, I am extremely sorry, and yet I do not know how you could have avoided the trouble. You did quite right if you could not love Mr. Fairlie, and Mr. Ogden’s haste was ungenerous and inexcusable. I am glad you had the good sense to see this. And now go to sleep my darling. If we have any better thoughts to-morrow we will comfort one another with them.”
So she kissed her and left her alone.
CHAPTER XI.
We were all pretty tired the next morning. The children slept late, and Fanny was unusually languid for her.—Stuart was the only one who did not appear to feel the effects of dissipation, for he was off bright and early on another excursion with the boys.
It seemed so strange to think of Fan having had two offers of marriage; at least, one we knew was made in good faith. The other mamma was not decided about.