When Muriel, looking almost happy for the first time since her arrival at High Cliffs, was seated, she felt a compelling gaze and glanced across the room. There she saw Marianne watching her through half-closed lids. There seemed to be in the French girl’s expression a threat that endangered her new-found joy and peace. But Faith, who also had seen, reached under the table and, finding Muriel’s hand, she held it in a close, protecting clasp, and the island girl knew that come what might she would not have to stand alone.
Saturday dawned gloriously bright, for it was Indian summer on the Hudson. The air was soft and balmy, the sunshine hazy and a dreamy little breeze rustled the few yellowing leaves that were still clinging to the trees.
“Just the day for a hike,” Faith announced at breakfast.
Catherine Lambert, who sat across the table, looked up eagerly and in answer to the speaker’s question, “Who wants to go?” she at once replied, “I do.”
“Muriel is to be the guest of honor.” Faith smiled lovingly at the girl next to her. “Gladys, how about you?”
“I thought we were to practice for the tennis tournament today. There is only a month left, you know.”
“That’s right. So we were. But, Gladys, if you will go hiking with us today I’ll promise to practice tennis every afternoon next week from four to five, my free time, on one condition.”
Her friend looked at her inquiringly. “Name it,” she said.
“That fifteen minutes each day may be devoted to teaching Muriel our favorite game.”
“Agreed. Who knows but that she may be just the champion player for whom we are looking,” Gladys good naturedly declared with sincere fervor.