"Thank you," said Miss Royle. "And cake, too? Splendid! How did you manage it?" A knife-edge cut against china. She helped herself generously.
Gwendolyn fell silent to listen.
"Well, I haven't Mr. Potter to thank," said Thomas, warmly; "only my own forethoughtedness, as you might say. The first time I ever set eyes on it I seen it was the kind that'd keep, so—"
From under the shielding arm Gwendolyn blinked with indignation. Her birthday cake!
"Say, Miss Royle," chuckled Thomas, replenishing the chocolate cup, "that was a' awful whack you give Miss J—last night."
At once Gwendolyn forgot the wrong put upon her in the matter of the cake—in astonishment at this new turn of affairs. Evidently Miss Royle and Thomas were leagued against Jane!
The governess nodded importantly, "She was only a cook before she came here," she declared contemptuously. "Down at the Employment Agency, where Madam got her, they said so. The common, two-faced thing!" This last was said with much vindictiveness. Following it, she proffered Thomas the cake-plate.
"Thanks," said he; "I don't mind if I do have a slice."
Now, of a sudden, wrath and resentment possessed Gwendolyn, sweeping her like a wave—at seeing her cake portioned out; at having her kicking ignored; at hearing these two openly abuse Jane.
"I want some strawberries," she stormed, pounding the rug full force. "And an egg. I won't eat dry bread!" Bang! Bang! Bang!