Olive, the Bertrams, Susie, Martha, Margaret herself, looked full of trouble. Fanny’s cheeks were pink with excitement. She had never liked Betty. In her heart of hearts she knew that she was full of uncharitable thoughts against her own cousin. And how was it, notwithstanding Betty’s ignoble confession, the other girls still loved her?
“What do you intend to do, supposing she does not confess?” said Fanny after a pause.
“In that case,” answered Margaret, “having due regard to the rules of the club, I fear we have no alternative—she must resign her membership, she must cease to be a Speciality. We shall miss her, and beyond doubt we shall still love her. But she must not continue to be a Speciality unless she restores the packet.”
Fanny simulated a slight yawn. She knew well that Betty’s days as a Speciality were numbered.
“She was so brilliant, so vivid!” exclaimed Susie.
“There was no one like her,” said Olive, “for suggesting all kinds of lovely things. And then her story-telling—wasn’t she just glorious!”
“We mustn’t think of any of those things,” said Margaret. “But I think we may all pray—yes, pray—for Betty herself. I, for one, love her dearly. I love her notwithstanding what she said to-night.”
“I think it was uncommonly plucky of her to stand up and tell us what she did,” remarked Martha, speaking for the first time. “She needn’t have done it, you know. It was entirely a case of conscience.”
“Yes, that is it; it was fine of her,” said Margaret. “Now, girls, suppose we have a Speciality meeting to-morrow night? You know by our rules we are allowed to have particular meetings. I will give my room for the purpose; and suppose we ask Betty to join us there?”