"You fell—where?"
Ermengarde felt that Basil had ceased to use his knife and fork, while he listened for her reply. She seized a cup of scalding tea, and choked over its contents.
"Where did you fall my dear?" asked the governess kindly.
"Please, ma'am, Ermengarde and Maggie had a stand-up fight in the middle of the night," interrupted Eric. "Oh, my stars!" he added, sotto voce, "if fight and night ain't a rhyme made unbeknown. Now I can wish."
"Shut up!" growled Basil.
"Eric, be quiet," said the governess.
She turned again to Ermengarde. Her manner was very gentle.
"Where did you fall, dear?" she said, "You have given yourself a very nasty cut, and should have come to me for some dressing for it. But where did it happen, my love?"
"In the park," said Ermengarde, in a low voice. "I fell over a bramble and cut myself."
"I never saw you fall, Ermie," said Marjorie. "Was it when we all had that race, just when the fireworks were over? How brave of you not to make a fuss! it must have been then."