“I shan’t find the way without you,” she declared lightly.
“Come on, Minnie,” shouted Mrs. Tregaskis, already well on ahead.
“There’s no rest for the wicked,” said Minnie mechanically, and went.
Rosamund’s first words were not at all what Morris had expected. She looked at him sombrely, and remarked almost violently:
“Do you know what’s the matter with Frances? Is Cousin Bertie really frightened about her?”
“No, not seriously, I don’t think,” he answered, instinctively anxious to soothe her. “She only said that if Frances wasn’t quite well again next week she wouldn’t go to Scotland, but would send you and Hazel alone.”
“I shan’t go if Francie is ill.”
He looked at her, astounded.
“But, Rosamund, what’s the matter? She isn’t ill. Mrs. Tregaskis herself said that a temperature didn’t mean anything at all with Frances.”
“Oh, you don’t understand,” she burst out angrily. “Nobody understands in the least what Frances is to me. Cousin Bertie has never understood, and never will. You heard what she said just now.”