Wondering glances were continually cast towards the window, where the yellow-clad figure stood dark against the light. The Senator’s daughter received more attention than the ring.
Meantime Ilga grew tired of waiting for the game to end, and, with a furtive look in the direction of the players, she sauntered off towards the hallway.
At once Polly excused herself, and followed.
Ilga turned quickly.
“I’m going home,” she said.
“Oh, please don’t!” cried Polly, adding faintly, “Are you ill?”
“No; but I guess I’d better go. There’s such a rabble here.”
“Why, Ilga!” gasped Polly.
“Well, ’tis!” she retorted. “If mamma’d known it, she wouldn’t have let me come; she’s very particular who I play with.”
“They’re just as nice as they can be,” protested Polly in a soft, grieved voice.