CHAPTER VIII.
Amy to the Rescue.
"Pearl, what is the matter with you?"
This question was asked sharply by Mrs. Rawlinson, as she scrutinised her cousin's face with her quick eyes.
"Matter? Oh, nothing," answered Pearl, flushing under the examination.
"Nonsense, my dear! Haven't I known you from babyhood? And for you to sit there and tell me that you are in your usual equable state of mind is simply ridiculous. I haven't seen you for a week. Not since the Cherry party. You have not condescended to come to my house, and each time I have come to yours I have been told that you were out, and, what is more, have had the door calmly shut in my face by that extremely impertinent 'boy' of yours. Amy tells me she has met with the same fate. May I ask the reason of this strange behaviour?"
"Certainly," replied Pearl, calmly. "You may ask what you like, but I don't fancy the reply will enlighten you much. I was busy saying my prayers."
Mrs. Rawlinson stared, as well she might, at this unexpected answer to her question.
Pearl laughed nervously at the expression on her cousin's face.
"Oh, you need have no fear for the state of my brain," she replied. "I have finished now. I prayed for the last time yesterday evening."