She ceased to desire to be grown up, and was satisfied to run races with Lilias in the simple pink cambric frock, which suited her infinitely better than the gorgeous chiffon.
Ermengarde's life was not without care just then, but at this moment she forgot her anxieties about Susy and Basil, and the broken miniature. She forgot her mortification of the night before, and looked what she was, a happy child.
Lilias was talking eagerly about the plans for the day's entertainment. The whole party were to drive to a certain point about eight miles from Glendower. There they were to picnic, and afterward, with the tide in their favor, would return home by water.
"And mother says I may drive my own ponies," said Lilias. "You haven't seen my Shetlands yet, have you, Ermie? Oh, they are such lovely pets, and father has given me real silver bells for their harness."
Ermengarde was about to make a reply, when a voice was heard calling Lilias.
"I'll be back in a minute, Ermie," said Lilias. "I suppose mother wants me to arrange about something. Don't go far away; I'll be with you directly."
She ran off, and Ermengarde, finding a rustic bench under a tree, sat down and looked around her. She had scarcely done so, when she was joined by Flora St. Leger.
"I saw you alone, and I rushed out to you, my love," said the young lady. "I want to speak to you so badly. Where can we go to be by ourselves?"
"But I am waiting here for Lilias," said Ermengarde.
"Oh, never mind. What does it matter whether Lilias finds you here when she comes back or not? She doesn't really want you, and I do."