“I know,” said Fanny. “But what I want to have explained is this: why Betty, a girl who is more or less worshiped by half the girls in the school, should trouble herself with such a very unimportant person as Sibyl Ray, I want to know. Can you tell me?”
“Even if I could tell you, remembering Rule No. I., I don’t think I would,” said Martha.
Fanny sat very still for a minute or two. Then she got up. “I don’t see,” she remarked, “why Rule No. I. should make us unsociable each with the other. The very object of our club is that we should have no secrets, but should be quite open and above-board. Now, Martha West, look me straight in the face!”
“I will, Fanny Crawford. What in the world are you accusing me of?”
“Of keeping something back from me which, as a member of the Specialities, you have no right whatever to do.”
A slow, heavy blush crept over Martha’s face. She got up. “I am going to look over my German lesson,” she said. “Fräulein will want me almost immediately.” Then she left Fanny, who stared after her retreating figure.
“I will find out,” thought Fanny, “what Martha is keeping to herself. That little horror Betty will sow all kinds of evil seed in the school if I don’t watch her. I did wrong to promise her, by putting my finger to my lips, that I would be silent with regard to her conduct. I see it now. But if Betty supposes that she can keep her secret to herself she is vastly mistaken. Hurrah, there’s Sibyl Ray! Sib, come here, child; I want to have a chat with you.”
It was a bitterly cold and windy day outside; there were even sleet-showers falling at intervals. Winter was coming on early, and with a vengeance.
“Why have you come in?” asked Fanny.
“It’s so bitterly cold out, Fanny.”