“An enemy, my dear child! What do you mean? You have just been praising her so much! Did any one take a dislike to her up in that north country?”
“It may have begun there,” remarked Hetty; “but the sad and dreadful thing is that the enemy is in this house. Sylvia and I don’t mind your knowing. We rather think you like her, but we don’t. Her name is Fanny Crawford.”
“Oh, really, though, that is quite nonsense!” said Margaret, flushing with annoyance. “Poor dear Fanny, there is not a better or sweeter girl in the school!”
Sylvia laughed. “That is your point of view,” she said. “She is our enemy; she is not yours. Oh, hurrah! hurrah! I see Betty! She is coming back, walking very slowly. She has got over the worst of the howls. We must both go and meet her. Don’t be anywhere about, please, either of you. Keep quite in the shade, so that she won’t see you; and the next time you meet talk to her as though this had never happened.”
The twins dashed out of sight. They certainly could run very fast.
When they had gone Margaret looked at Olive. “Well,” she said, “that sort of scene rather takes one’s breath away. What do you think, Olive?”
“It was exceedingly trying,” said Olive.
“All the same,” said Margaret, “I feel roused up about those girls in the most extraordinary manner. Didn’t you notice, too, what Sylvia said about poor Fanny? Isn’t it horrid?”
“Of course it isn’t true,” was Olive’s remark.
“We have made up our minds not to speak evil of any one in the school,” said Margaret after a pause; “but I cannot help remembering that Fanny did not wish Betty to become a Speciality. And don’t you recall how angry she was, and how she would not vote with the ‘ayes,’ and would not give any reason, and although she was hostess she walked out of the room?”