It is astonishing how soon the mind, when angry, can establish within itself a fixed idea. Miss Nelson had said nothing to really draw suspicion on Marjorie, and yet Ermengarde was now thoroughly convinced that the little girl had been the one to tell of her misdemeanor. She did not trouble herself to examine proofs. All Marjorie's amiable and good-natured ways were as nothing to Ermengarde then. She had certainly told, and as long as she lived Ermie would never forgive her.
Just then, while her anger was at its height, she heard a low whistle under the open window. She rushed over to it, and popped out her head. Basil was standing underneath.
"Don't, Basil," said Ermengarde; "do go away, please. I hate you to find me here a prisoner."
"Oh, stuff, Ermie, don't be tragic over it. It's only for a day at the most, and what's a day?"
"What's a day? One of your holidays—the first of your holidays!"
"Well, there are lots more to follow. Bear it with a good grace. It will soon be over."
"Basil, I thought you had gone with the others."
"I wasn't ready, and Maggie has promised to send the boat back for me."
"Maggie! As if she could give orders."
"She can remind other people though. I'd back Maggie any day never to forget what a fellow wants."