"What I call meanest," put in Dulcie, "was to try and curry favour with Ronnie by giving him a birthday present on your own account. Miss Birks said there were to be no separate presents: we were all to join, so that there'd be no jealousy—and you wouldn't subscribe. Oh, you are a nasty, hole-and-corner, underhand sneak! Have you anything to say for yourself?"
But Gerda stumped resolutely along with her hands in her coat pockets, and answered never a word.
CHAPTER VIII
A Meeting on the Shore
"D'you know, Dulcie," remarked Deirdre, when the chums were alone, "the more I think about it, the more convinced I am there's something queer about Gerda Thorwaldson."
"So am I," returned Dulcie emphatically. "Something very queer indeed. I never liked her from the first: she always gives me the impression that she's listening and taking mental notes."
"For what?"
"Ah, that's the question! What?"
"I certainly think we ought to be on our guard, and to watch her carefully, only we mustn't on any account let her know what we're doing."
"Rather not!"