rmengarde was sitting in her own room, and Marjorie was standing by her side. It was the day after Ermie's unexpected return home. She had spent a couple of hours with Susy, and Miss Nelson had given her a grave but kind welcome. Now the first day was over, the first night had gone by, and Ermengarde was sitting, resting her cheek upon her hand, by the open window of her pretty bedroom.
Marjorie was lolling against the window-ledge; her anxious eyes were fixed on Ermengarde, who was looking away from her, and whose pretty face wore a particularly sullen expression.
"Well, Ermie, what will you do?" asked Marjorie, in a gentle voice.
"Oh, I don't know—don't worry me."
"But you must make up your mind. Miss Nelson is waiting."
"Let her wait; what do I care?"
"Ermie, what's the good of talking like that? Miss Nelson is our governess, and mother used to be fond of her. You know it was mother asked her to come and take care of us when she knew that God was going to take her away. So, Ermie, there's no use in being disrespectful to her, for, even if it wasn't very wrong, father wouldn't allow it for a minute. Ermie, do you know that father has come back?"
"No! What can he have come back for?" Ermengarde raised her brows in some alarm. "I can't make out why he should have shortened his visit to Glendower," she added anxiously.
"I can't tell you, Ermie. He's talking to Basil now; they are walking up and down in the shrubbery."
"Oh, well, Basil—Basil is all right."