"Is it right to forgive the enemies of our country?" she asked Mrs. Morrison.
"When they are dead," replied the Principal.
Marjorie went out slowly from the study, and stood thinking for a moment. Then, going upstairs to her cubicle, she looked in her treasure box, and found the little gold locket containing the portrait of her one-time friend. It had been a birthday present from Chrissie. She refrained from opening it, but, taking it down to the dingle, she flung it into the deepest pool in the brook. She walked back up the field with a feeling as though she had attended a funeral.
Dona met her in the quadrangle.
"I've just seen Miss Norton," she confided. "The specialist came to look at Eric yesterday, and he gives quite good hopes for him. He's to go into a children's hospital under a very clever doctor, and be properly looked after and dieted. His own mother lets him eat anything. Norty's simply beaming. She's to take him herself next week in a motor ambulance."
Marjorie heaved a great sigh of relief. The world seemed suddenly to have brightened. Bygones must remain bygones. She had been imprudent, indeed, in supplying information, but it had been done in all innocence, and though she might blame her own folly, she could not condemn her act as unpatriotic.
"There's good news from the front, too," continued Dona. "Another ridge taken, and a village. Winifrede showed me the newspaper. Lieutenant Preston's name is mentioned for conspicuous bravery. It's really quite an important victory on our part. We've driven the Huns back a good piece. I feel I just want to shout 'Hurrah!' and I'm going to!—
"Hurrah!"
"Hurrah! God save the King!" echoed Marjorie.