There was a little click in Annie Laurie’s throat, but no spoken word. Carin, looked up, saw the anger blazing in the girl’s eyes, and started to say that she was only joking; but before she could frame the words Annie Laurie found her tongue.
“Why wouldn’t I like to read Stevenson as well as you two?” she demanded. “Why do you make out that I try to do things in the hard and stupid way? You’ve certainly made them hard and stupid enough for me the past week. You’re supposed to have such fine manners, and Azalea is thought ‘so sweet.’ I haven’t seen your fine manner or her sweetness. I imagined it was going to be lovely here with you two—that my life would grow to be interesting when we three were friends. Well, perhaps it would—if we could be friends. But we can’t. First, because you won’t be—and second because I won’t. I’m through. I shouldn’t have come. I’m disgusted that I gave you a chance to snub me. I’m going now, and after this when you poke fun at me you’ll have to do it behind my back.”
“Why—why—Annie Laurie—” gasped Carin, “I didn’t know—”
But Annie Laurie already had left the room and was stalking down the corridor. Carin sank back in her chair and covered her face with her hands. As for Azalea, her book crashed to the floor.
“Oh, Carin,” she cried, “what have we done?”
Miss Parkhurst still was absent, but if she had been there, it is doubtful if the girls would have consulted her. The battle which had been threatening all week was on, and the victory at present was, oddly enough, with the fleeing enemy.
She was already out of the front door by the time Azalea had reached the hall; and once she was in the open, her dignity deserted her and she ran toward the gate as if fleeing from a lava stream. Azalea, who had stopped to snatch her cap and reefer, reached the gate only to see her racing along the road as fast as her long legs would carry her.
Meantime, Hi Kitchell, the boy who had traveled with Azalea in those old, half-forgotten days, and who was now happily settled with his mother and “the kids” in the cabin in which the Carsons had placed them, opened his sharp eyes to see two girls racing along the frozen road, stumbling over hard ruts, and then plunging on again. He knew them both—liked Annie Laurie and swore by Azalea. He saw the anger in the first girl’s face and the anxiety in Azalea’s every gesture. He couldn’t for the life of him see why, if Annie Laurie felt like that, she didn’t turn around and “baste” Azalea. But if she did he’d be on Azalea’s side all right enough.
Goodness, how they were running! He simply couldn’t stand not knowing what it all was about. He knew it was none of his business, but for all of that, a second later he was pelting down the road after them. He could run like a rabbit and it was not long before he overtook them.
But that was just at the moment when Annie Laurie reached her home and, dashing in, slammed the door behind her; and Azalea, panting on the doorstep, furiously rang the bell.