Olive, self-seeking, self-loving Olive, often wondered at various little sacrifices, quietly and unostentatiously made, but accepted them without demur, stifling her conscience, which accused her very plainly, by persuading herself that Elsa was such a "mouse" she really didn't care about things a bit, so it was no sacrifice to her.
The two girls perched themselves on the high window seat whence they could see the river gliding swiftly by the bottom of the large, old-fashioned garden, and indulged in a long, long "confab," as Olive termed it, after the newly painted things (which had caused such disaster to Olive's dress) had been admired among many other things.
At length, when each had confided to the other all that was in her heart, a sound of youthful voices was heard in the hall below, and in a few moments more, Elsa appeared on the scene.
"Where are Joan and Pat?" said Olive, as Monica and Elsa greeted each other with the school-girl's typical "How d'you do?"
"They went to Nanny."
"Because Monica wants to see Paddy. Go and fetch him up, Elsa, there's a good girl."
"Mayn't Joan come, too?" pleaded Elsa; "she wants to, ever so much."
"Oh, yes!" said Olive, with good-humoured benignity; "let her come if she likes. But Monica doesn't care for small girls."
"I really don't know anything about children," said Monica, as Elsa went off at Olive's request.
"Well, I think, myself, that they are a perfect nuisance," admitted her friend; "they are always in the way, or getting into mischief, but Paddy is such a jolly little chap, everybody takes a fancy to him."