The broad terrace which ran in front of the house was completely sheltered from the sun at this hour. There was a pleasant breeze, and the girls, as they paced arm in arm up and down the broad path, looked happy and picturesque.
Two girls who were coming up the grassy slope at this moment stopped at sight of them; one uttered a slight exclamation of dismay, the other made an eager bound forward.
"There's Dolly!" exclaimed Bridget; "do let me run to her, Janet."
"Miss Percival is with her," exclaimed Janet. "Do you really want to speak to Miss Percival, Bridget, after all you have suffered on her account?"
"But she looks very nice."
"What a poor, weak kind of creature you are to be influenced by looks; besides, she is in reality very plain. Even her warmest admirers have never yet bestowed on her the palm of beauty."
"Oh, I like her face; it looks so good."
Janet paused in her walk to give her young companion a glance of steady contempt.
"Can I possibly go on with this scheme of mine?" she muttered to herself. "Bridget O'Hara is altogether too dreadful." Had Janet yielded to her impulses at that moment she would have told Bridget to join her beloved Dorothy and Evelyn Percival, and have declared her intention of washing her hands of her on the spot. Had Janet acted so, this story need never have been written. But that strong ambition, that thirst for praise, which was her most marked characteristic came to her aid. Bridget was the only means within her power to achieve a most desirable end, and as such she must be tolerated.
"Come down this walk with me," she said, in a low tone; "come quickly, before those girls see us. I want to say a word to you." She took Biddy's hand as she spoke and hurried her into a little sheltered path which led round to the back of the house.