"I am sorry; I won't do it again," said Cecil.
"Can you not give me your reason?"
"I am dreadfully sorry, I cannot."
Miss Leicester looked from one girl to the other: there was a look in Cecil's eyes, an expression about Matilda's mouth, which made her feel that the solution of a very unpleasant mystery was about to be made.
"Don't lock the summerhouse again, dear," she said, in a kindly voice to her pupil. She then walked past the two girls to fetch her tennis bat, which was hanging on the wall.
"Come, Matilda," said Cecil. She held out her hand as she spoke; Matilda took it grudgingly.
On the way to the playground, she had been glad enough to show all the world that she was one of Cecil Ross' friends; on her return, she would have been only too thankful to be miles away from this very determined young person. But in vain did she look from right to left for a loophole to escape. After a few minutes' quick walking, the two girls found themselves at St. Dorothy's; a moment later they stood outside Molly Lavender's door. Cecil knocked softly.
"Come in," called Molly's voice.
Her headache had grown so bad that she had been forced to lie down, but she started upright when she saw who was following Cecil into the room.