"It is utterly false!"
The conversation was taking place in the corner of a class-room whilst the girls were putting away their books. Some of the scholars had already left, and the governess had gone into the next room. Marigold flew to the side of Muriel Wake and caught her by the arm.
"What do you mean by telling such a falsehood about my mother?" Marigold demanded, almost choking with passion.
Muriel looked at the white face of the angry child with a disagreeable light in her blue eyes, whilst she smiled scornfully.
"Take care what you say!" she cried. "I have told nothing but the truth."
"You said—" Marigold commenced furiously, when the other interrupted her.
"I said that your mother worked for her living by doing needlework for a shop. I also said that she scrubbed, cleaned, and cooked, and that I should not be surprised if she had not been a servant before your father married her, for it is well-known that your aunts won't have anything to do with her!"
There was a moment's dead silence. The other girls in the class-room had drawn around Muriel and Marigold, to listen to the dispute, and were looking on, some with keen delight in the situation, others with amusement, and a few with evident disapproval. By this time Marigold was so enraged that she scarcely knew what she was doing. She stared with wild eyes at the girl who only this morning had approached her with overtures of friendship, marvelling at her treachery. How she hated her! Oh, how bitterly she hated her! In her ungovernable passion Marigold lifted her hand and would have struck the fair, pretty face that smiled at her mockingly, had not somebody caught her by the wrist and prevented her doing so. Turning around sharply, she saw one of the elder girls had appeared upon the scene, and now stood looking around inquiringly. Marigold knew who the new-comer was—Grace Long, the most popular girl in the school, a general favourite with teachers and pupils alike.
"What is the meaning of this?" Grace asked, in her clear, pleasant tones. "What are you sneering about, Muriel Wake? That expression does not suit your style of beauty, let me tell you!"
There was a laugh at this, whilst Muriel flushed angrily, and tossed her head.