Blue Bonnet looked out across the shadowy lawn; she believed she would tell Grandmother; it should be their secret between them.
“I have got a reason, truly,” she said; “but it takes in such a number of other people. It began one afternoon when Boyd Trent met me out riding, and—”
“When in doubt, always confide in your grandmother,” Mrs. Clyde advised, as Blue Bonnet hesitated; “that’s one of the things grandmothers were made for.”
“All right,” Blue Bonnet answered.
“Please,” she asked, as she finished her story, “was it very dreadful—what I said to Boyd that night?”
“I think, taking everything into consideration, that it was very—pardonable,” Grandmother said.
“And you won’t mind, now that you know I really did mean to try? And Alec won a prize. I don’t believe I should have done that; and if I had, Kitty couldn’t’ve.”
“How should I mind, dear?—now that I understand your reason for not trying.”
Blue Bonnet drew a deep breath of relief. “Then I haven’t a single worry left on my mind. I didn’t like you and Aunt Lucinda thinking I was being—just horrid.”
“I am very glad you have told me this, Blue Bonnet. You must let me tell your aunt.”