It was Marjorie’s turn, and as the question fell on her ears, an answer popped into her mind.
But she hesitated about saying it. She didn’t think it was the right answer, and yet she couldn’t think of any other.
But if she said she didn’t know, she would get her third score, and have to admit herself vanquished.
Miss Merington smiled at her pleasantly, Mr. Abercrombie waited patiently, King and Kitty were looking at her anxiously. Why did she hesitate? they thought.
For Marjorie didn’t look as if she didn’t know the answer, she only seemed unwilling to tell it.
“Come, come, little orange girl,” said Mr. Abercrombie, most kindly; “that’s not a hard one. You can guess it, can’t you?”
Still Marjorie said nothing.
“I’m sure that’s the answer,” she said to herself; “and yet suppose it shouldn’t be!”
Then she thought she’d say she didn’t know, and let Miss Merington get the prize. Then her conscience told her it would be wrong to say she didn’t know, when she did know.
“Now, then, orange maiden,” went on the kind voice, “here’s your last chance. What’s the most kissable tree?”