“Oh, my dear Angela,” she said. “Whatever will you think of me? What is to be done? I have spent such a miserable day. We are all most anxious.”
“What?” said Angela, “haven’t you found the truant yet?”
“No; we have searched high and low, all over the place. We don’t want to alarm people. We could, of course, send a telegram to father and Horace, but we don’t want to do that.”
“She is evidently a very naughty girl,” said Angela.
“I am afraid she is; she is terribly self-willed,” said Marcia with a sigh.
“I’m not a scrap uneasy about her,” said Angela. “She is quite certain to have taken care of herself. But what frets me is that you are looking so white, dear. You want your holiday so badly.”
“I can’t really go with you to-night; I am ever so sorry, Angela, but it is quite impossible.”
“Then let me stay and help you.”
“Oh, I can’t do that!” but Marcia’s eyes expressed a longing.
“Now, why shouldn’t I stay?” said Angela. “I have always longed to see Mrs Aldworth. You might bring me up to her, mightn’t you?”