Priscilla's manner rather than her actual words irritated Martine.
"I am the best judge of what wastes my own time," she said with unwonted sharpness, "and as a matter of fact, I'd rather stay here than go with you."
Amy, looking at her earnestly, realized that this was not the time for further argument.
"Very well," she rejoined. "Priscilla, let us go on. Martine is certainly the best judge of what she ought to do."
"I know I shouldn't have criticised Martine," apologized Priscilla, as they walked along; "but it seems so silly to me that she should carry a valuable set of silver like that on a trip of this kind. I spoke before I thought."
"Martine has always been greatly indulged," said Amy. "At least, I've been told that she sets no value on money, and so what would seem a little extravagant to us does not seem so to her."
"Well, good taste is good taste," rejoined Priscilla, "and if I had ten times as much money as I have, I'd never carry jewelry about with me travelling, nor expensive toilet-sets."
Amy did not reply to this. Her own view was much the same as that of Priscilla, but she realized that it was not for her to criticise either girl.
The trip to Granville proved less satisfactory than she had hoped. The town itself, though small, was attractively situated, and she identified one or two historical spots that she had hoped to see; but she missed the particular road for which she was looking, and on account of their engagement at Mrs. Airton's, she had to hurry back to Annapolis without accomplishing what she had set out to do. The mid-day sun was very hot, and she and Priscilla reached the house dusty and tired, to find Martine looking tantalizingly cool and comfortable, seated on a rustic bench under a tree in the orchard, busily working at a water-color sketch.
After their early dinner, Mrs. Redmond took Amy aside and said rather anxiously: