“Why, no,” came the wondering reply. “Have you missed her?”
“I saw her go by in a limousine,” stated Constance Stevens, from the tonneau of the Deans’ car. “She was driving and the chauffeur was sitting beside her.”
A belated light now dawned upon Mignon. She understood that this was the fruition of Rowena’s threat. She had purposely run off and left her, knowing that she could not hope to catch the last train.
In the dark of the tonneau, Constance gave Marjorie’s hand a quick pressure. Its instant return signified that her chum understood. Without hesitation she called to the tragic little figure on the sidewalk, “We’ll take you home, Mignon. It’s lucky that General stopped to examine that tire.” Then to her father, “This is Mignon La Salle, Father. You know her, Mother.”
“Yes.” Mrs. Dean bowed in reserved fashion. “Get into the tonneau with the girls, Miss La Salle. We will see that you arrive safely at your own door.”
The unexpected courtesy very nearly robbed the stranded girl of speech. Stammering her thanks, Mignon climbed ruefully into the tonneau and seated herself by Marjorie. As the car began a loud purr, preparatory to starting, her outraged feelings overcame her and she burst into tears. “It was hateful in her,” she sobbed, “perfectly hateful.”
“It was,” agreed Marjorie positively. “But I wouldn’t cry about it. You are all right now.” Then with a view to cheering the weeper, she added: “You sang your part beautifully both nights, Mignon. That’s something to be glad of. This little trouble doesn’t really matter, since everything turned out well.”
“It’s nice in you to say it,” quavered Mignon. “But, oh, how I despise that hateful, hateful girl. I’ll never, never speak to her again as long as I live.”
Marjorie might easily have assured her that this was a wise decision. Instead, she prudently refrained from committing herself. Mignon’s mind continued to dwell on her wrongs. She cried and raged against her treacherous companion during most of the ride home. Constance and Marjorie were obliged to listen and administer judicious consolation. It did not appear to sink deep. Mignon was too self-centered to realize their generosity of spirit. When they left her at the La Salle’s gate she tried to put graciousness into her thanks, but her thoughts were too firmly fixed upon faithless Rowena and herself to appreciate the kindness she had received.
“For once Mignon had to swallow a dose of her own medicine,” commented Constance grimly, as the Deans’ car sped away toward their home, where Connie was to spend the night with Marjorie.