“Is that to be wondered at? It is down on the board with the rest.”
“I think you know what I mean. You know that those notes you dropped the other day belonged to Alec.”
“And that the subject you used was really the one he was using.”
“Aren’t you taking a good deal for granted?” Boyd broke in; she should not have it all her own way.
“You know what I say is so,” Blue Bonnet insisted. “Those were Alec’s notes, the subject was his, and all at once he gave up sending in a paper. It’s very plain.”
“It has not occurred to you that Alec might have given me those notes?”
“Then, in that case, you would not have looked so—ashamed, while you were picking them up.”
Boyd sprang to his feet, his face crimson. “I don’t wonder they sent you East to be taught—manners!”
It was Blue Bonnet’s turn to crimson, but she held back the retort trembling at the edge of her tongue; she had come out there to tell Boyd Trent what she knew, and she had told him. It was inconceivable that a Trent—the General’s grandson, and Alec’s cousin—should have done this thing.