After a moment of indecision Edina followed and flung herself full length on the ground beside Billie.
“Why did you come after me?” she queried listlessly. “You might better have left me alone.”
The statement was not made ungraciously nor sullenly; it was merely as though the girl were unutterably weary and could not imagine anyone taking a legitimate interest in her or her affairs.
Billie said nothing, but handed out sandwiches and cake, which the girl accepted ravenously.
“I’m hungry,” she said simply. “I haven’t had a bite to eat since noon.”
“You should have come in to supper,” said Billie, nibbling at a piece of the matchless cake. “Debsy might have given you a bad mark for being late, but she couldn’t have kept you from eating your supper.”
“I didn’t want any then. I couldn’t go in and face those jeering, snickering girls.” Edina Tooker clenched her hands and spoke with a sudden, desperate vehemence. “They think I’m a big joke and I—I hate them. I could kill them all!”
Billie waited patiently for the storm to pass. Then she said gently:
“Have a piece of cake, Edina. You’ve no idea how good it is.”
“I don’t want any cake,” said Edina sullenly. She sat up, very stiff and straight, her hands locked about her humped knees. “I don’t want anything. To-morrow I’m going back home.”