“What a strange request, Harriet! I don’t see what my word given to you would be worth in such a case.” Then her face took on a look of sadness. “I wonder,” she said musingly, “if I ought to tell you something. I should like to so much, Harriet, but it doesn’t seem to be quite fair.”
Mrs. Percy-Bartlett threw her arm around Gertrude’s neck, and drew her close to her side.
“You can trust me, Gertrude. Don’t you know you can? I knew that you had something to tell me. Whisper it, my dear. What is it?”
Gertrude bent her head close to her confidante’s ear.
“Buchanan Budd proposed to me last night, Harriet.”
“And you”—
“And I refused him,” answered Gertrude, a hysterical break in her voice.
“I am so sorry,” said Mrs. Percy-Bartlett caressingly, as she gently stroked Gertrude’s luxuriant hair.
The girl’s eyes met hers questioningly.
“Sorry, Harriet; sorry that I refused him?”