I stood still when I saw them advancing. It wasn’t that they came slowly; they came in a great rush as from a catapult. They drew up when they got within a few inches of me. Then Rita said, “We were making a bet about you.”
“A bet?” I said. “What do you mean?”
“Augusta said you would come; Agnes and I said you wouldn’t.”
“Why should I come?” I said.
“Well,” exclaimed Rita, “I know most girls would take a holiday on the day after their father’s wedding. Most girls would—but you!”
“What do you mean?” I said.
My face was as white as a sheet then, I knew, for I felt very cold, and my eyes were smarting, and that dimness was coming over them again.
“Oh, there, there!” said Augusta Moore.
She wrenched herself away from the Swans, and came up to me and took my hand. I don’t exactly know what followed next; I only knew that there was a great buzzing, and a number of people were talking, and I knew that Augusta went on saying, “There, there, dear!” Finally I found myself walking away from school, led by Augusta—away from school, and towards home. I was making no protest of any sort whatever.
At last we reached our own house, and Augusta looked wistfully at the tall steps which led to the front door; but she said, “I am not coming in with you, for I know you would rather be alone. It must be a fearful trial for you to have that noble, exalted father of yours united in marriage to such a very commonplace woman as Miss Donnithorne. I feel for you, from the bottom of my heart. Kiss me; I am truly sorry for you.”