“Brother, Brother!” remonstrated Rachel.
“Tut! the cakes will do them no harm,” said he carelessly. “There are but a dozen or the like.”
Margaret went first towards the garden, carrying the plate, Clare and Blanche following. As they reached the terrace, Lucrece overtook them, going on about a yard in advance of Margaret. When the latter turned her head to call Blanche to “come on,” Clare, to her utter amazement, saw Lucrece stop, and, as Margaret passed her, silently and deftly dip her hand into the plate, and transfer two of the little cakes to her pocket. The action was so promptly and delicately performed, leaving Margaret entirely unconscious of it, that in all probability it was not the first of its kind.
Clare was intensely shocked. Was Lucrece a thief?
Margaret sat down on a grassy bank, and counted out the cakes. There were eleven.
“How is this?” she asked, looking perplexed. “There were thirteen of these, I am well assured, for I counted them o’er as I came out of hall. Who has taken two?”
“Not I,” said Clare shortly.
Blanche shook her curly head; Lucrece, silently but calmly, held out empty hands. So, thought Clare, she is a liar as well, as a thief.
“They must be some whither,” said Margaret, quietly; “and I know where it is like: Lucrece, I do verily believe they are in thy pocket.”
“Dost thou count me a thief, Meg?” retorted Lucrece.