IT was a perfect summer evening. The day had been an oppressively hot one with scarcely a breath of air stirring, but now, as the sun set, a soft, refreshing breeze began to rise, which was very welcome. Malvina Medland, on her bed of pain, felt the difference of the atmosphere with thankfulness; she was certainly better, but her recovery from her attack of illness was being made very slowly, and Dr. Elizabeth was anything but satisfied with her progress.
Seated on her favourite seat beneath the almond tree in the garden of Laureston Square on this particular evening, Ann Reed had been thinking of Malvina, and wondering how she had endured the heat of the day. Ann had found it a wearisome, dragging day herself, and she knew it must have been a trying one for Malvina; but now her thoughts had turned from the sick girl to Violet, and very troubled thoughts they were.
"I don't understand her," she mused, "I cannot believe she knows anything about Agnes Hosking's purse, for when mother mentioned it at the breakfast-table, this morning, and said how much she regretted that it had never been found, she did not seem embarrassed in the least. I was so relieved to see that! And yet she cannot bear to speak of the afternoon Agnes came to tea with us, she gets red and looks ashamed, and what can she have to be ashamed of? I wish the girls did not slight her so at school; I know some of them do, and she must notice it. It's strange that she never mentions it to me, I am always expecting her to open up the subject. Can she know what Agnes has been hinting about her? If so, she evidently does not mean to openly resent it. Ah, here she comes! Father is right—he said yesterday she was looking rather pale. I'm afraid she's unhappy."
A minute later Violet had joined Ann on the seat. She seemed tired and out of spirits; doubtless the heat of the day had tried her, too.
"I've only just finished my lessons," she remarked; "I've been so slow over them this evening. How nice it is to have it a little cooler!"
"Yes," agreed Ann; "it's very pleasant here, isn't it? So quiet, and the scent from the flowers is lovely. I wonder why flowers always smell their sweetest after sunset? How the term is flying, isn't it, Violet? Here we are in the last week of June; why, in another month we shall be commencing the holidays."
"I shall be so glad when they come," Violet admitted; "not that I am not getting on all right with my work, for I am," she hastened to explain, "but I daresay you've noticed that it has been anything but agreeable for me at school this term. I have had the cold shoulder shown me by several of the girls—not that I care!" she added bitterly, and, certainly untruthfully.
"Oh, Violet!" exclaimed Ann, "I am so sorry, and I am sure you do care. I can see it is a trouble to you. Do you—do you know why—"
"Do I know why I am being treated so?" Violet asked, as her companion hesitated to proceed. "Of course I do," she declared vehemently; "it is Agnes Hosking's doing, not a doubt of it."
"I-I am afraid it is."