‘James! Are you mad?’ says Susan. ‘Fancy my caring for a card from James! Why, here is his, and you can have it to make ducks and drakes of, if you like.’
‘But that, then?’ questions Betty, with some pardonable curiosity, pointing at the card denied her.
‘It is from Mr. Crosby. Don’t you think, Betty,’ the treacherous colour growing deeper, ‘that one should treasure even a card sent by one who has been so good to Bonnie?’
‘I do—I do indeed,’ says Betty earnestly. ‘And, after all, one would treasure a card from most people. Even this’—flicking Dom’s somewhat contemptuously—‘I’ll have to treasure, as I can’t send it away to anyone. Susan, I wonder if Ella has got any cards besides those we sent her? Shall we go to her this afternoon and ask her?’
‘I don’t suppose she can have got any,’ says Susan thoughtfully. ‘You know she keeps herself so aloof from the world. She had yours and mine certainly, and Carew’s.’
‘Did Carew send her one?’
‘Didn’t you know?’ Susan laughs a little. ‘I didn’t think it was a secret. I went into his room yesterday, and saw an envelope directed to Ella, and said something about it; but I really quite thought he had told you, too.’
‘Well, he didn’t! After dinner, Susan, let us run down and see her, and show her our cards.’
‘Oh no!’ says Susan, shrinking a little. ‘If she had none of her own, it might make her feel—feel lonely!’
‘That’s true,’ says Betty.