Max came eagerly; he was so fond of his treacley spoonful it was a marvel he had not of his own accord jogged some one’s memory and insisted upon the omission being rectified.
But Lynn’s tonic embittered life for her for a considerable time before taking, as well as for several minutes afterwards, until a long drink and a chocolate removed the nauseous taste.
She was playing this morning, before Anna’s call, in a mood of chastened joy.
Her conscience was always a prickly little affair, and forced her to confess to her sins almost before she had committed them. But she told herself this morning that it was certainly no business of hers to point out to Miss Bibby Miss Bibby’s forgetfulness. And she was just comfortably settled up in [p117] the big quince tree as Fritz, in “Falconhurst,” when that soul-vexing cry about “medsun” shrilled through a window.
“’Tend you don’t hear; it’s only Anna,” said Pauline in swift sympathy.
Lynn flattened her body along a bough and drew up a possibly betraying leg.
“Do I show?” she whispered.
Paul shook her head, and moved with Muffie hastily away from the tree and began to run towards Anna, who, failing to obtain her quarry with a shout, was now seen rapidly coming to the Island of the Robinson family, late of Switzerland.
“Anna,” shouted Pauline, one of the most resourceful young people in the world, “have you seen Lynn anywhere?”
Anna pulled up.