Her thoughts brought back a day when she had shown Mademoiselle the names in her birthday-book and dwelt on one page and let Mademoiselle understand that it was the page—brown eyes—les yeux brunes foncés. Why did Mademoiselle and Fräulein think that bad—want to spoil it for her? She had said nothing about the confidences of the German girls to anyone. Elsa must have found that out from Clara.
“Oh, well it’s all over now. Let’s be thankful and think no more about it.”
“All very fine, Jemima. You’re going home.”
“Thank goodness.”
“And not coming back. Lucky Pigleinchen.”
“Well, so am I,” said Miriam, “and I’m not coming back.”
“I say! Aren’t you coming to Norderney?” Gertrude flashed dark eyes at her.
“Can’t you come to Norderney?” said Judy thickly, at her elbow.
“Well, you see there are all sorts of things happening at home. I must go. One of my sisters is engaged and another going away. I must go home for a while. Of course I might come back.”
“Think it over, Henderson, and see if you can’t decide in our favour.”