Marjorie reached her room. She climbed up on the window-ledge and gazed out.
"Yes, the moon is getting up," she said, speaking her thoughts aloud, which was one of her old-fashioned ways. "Oh, how beautiful the moon must look on the sea. I wonder if Ermie is looking at it. Not that poor Ermie cares for moons, or things of that sort; but Lilias does. Who's that? O Basil, is it you? Have you come to talk to me? How awfully jolly! There's lots of room for both of us on the window-ledge. Squeeze in, Basil; there, aren't we snug? Please, may I put my arm round your neck to keep myself tight?"
"All right, Mag. Only don't quite throttle me if you can help it. I thought you had some one with you. I heard you chattering."
"Only to myself. It's a way I have."
"Well, go on, never mind me; I'm nobody."
"Oh, aren't you, just! Why, you are Basil, you're the eldest of us all and the wisest, and the best."
"Hush, Maggie."
Basil's brow was actually contracted with pain.
"Yes, you are," repeated Marjorie, who saw the look, and began to feel her little heart waxing very hot. "O Basil, I meant to spend all to-day and yesterday clearing you; yes, I did, darling, I did! And I never thought, when it was made to be my plain duty to stay at home, that I was only to help in the nursery all day long. O Basil, I am so sorry."
"I don't know what you mean, Maggie, by clearing me," said Basil. "Clearing me of what?"