Miss Royle gave a quick look toward the window-seat. "You mean you've made plans?" she asked, concern supplanting anger in her voice.
To all appearances Jane was near to tears. She did not answer. She nodded dejectedly.
"Well, Jane, you shall have to-morrow afternoon," declared Miss Royle, soothingly. "Is that fair? I didn't know you'd counted on to-day. So—" Here another glance shot window-ward. Then she beckoned Jane. They went into the hall. And Gwendolyn heard them whispering together.
When Jane came back into the nursery she looked almost cheerful. "Now off with that habit," she called to Gwendolyn briskly. "And into something for your dinner."
"I want to wear a plaid dress," announced Gwendolyn, getting down from her seat slowly.
Jane was selecting a white muslin from a tall wardrobe. "Little girls ain't wearin' plaids this year," she declared shortly. "Come."
"Well, then, I want a dress that's got a pocket," went on Gwendolyn, "—a pocket 'way down on this side." She touched the right skirt of her riding-coat.
"They ain't makin' pockets in little girls' dresses this year," said Jane, "Come! Come!"
"'They,'" repeated Gwendolyn. "Who are 'They'? I'd like to know; 'cause I could telephone 'em and—"
"Hush your nonsense!" bade Jane. Then, catching at the delicate square of linen in Gwendolyn's hand, "How'd you git ink smeared over your handkerchief? What do you suppose your mamma'd say if she was to come upon it? I'd be blamed—as usual!"