Lesbia, who went at least ten minutes out of her way every day in order to walk back from school with her idol, carefully avoided discussing home topics. She felt there was a sore spot that would hurt if it was touched. She fenced the questions which were sometimes—with evident curiosity—put to her.
One afternoon, as the chums had reached the Morwoods' gate, a heavy shower gave Marion the excuse to ask Lesbia to come in and shelter. They spent a rapturous quarter of an hour inspecting a collection of stamps, then Lesbia, who was late already, glanced through the window at the clearing sky.
"I must go," she groaned. "The rain's almost stopped now. Look at the time! And we have tea at half-past four. Botheration! I did want to see the rest of your stamps."
"No, I must sprint. They won't know where I am."
"Then come back after tea! Mayn't she, Mother? Leo and Kitty will be here, and we'll try over some songs. Do come!" Mrs. Morwood very kindly endorsed her daughter's invitation, and pressed Lesbia to spend the evening. Lesbia, longing to come, accepted provisionally.
"I will if I can, but I shall have to ask at home," she confided at the hall door as she put up her umbrella.
Marion's face reddened with indignant sympathy.
"You don't mean to tell me they keep you as tight as that?" she flared.
But her friend was half-way down the steps by that time and did not reply.