"And she was so fond of that little sister," continued Marjorie.
"I never heard of any sister," said Ermengarde in a profoundly uninterested voice. "Let us come down to dinner, Maggie; the gong has sounded."
Marjorie gave vent to a very heavy sigh. She had got no satisfaction out of Ermengarde, and yet her manner gave her a sense of insecurity. She recalled again Ermie's strange excitement of the evening before, and wondered in vain what it all meant.
At dinner-time Miss Nelson's face was paler than ever. It was noticed now by the three people who shared her secret. Eric and Lucy were perfectly comfortable and easy in their minds, but the older children felt a sense of constraint. After dinner Eric asked Marjorie to come with him to visit his ferrets.
"They are at Collins's, you know," he said. "I hope Collins is treating them properly. If he does not, Shark will pay him out; that's a certainty. Come along, Mag."
"I will presently," said Marjorie.
"Oh, no; you must come at once. I have a lot to do this afternoon; you can't keep me waiting."
A good-humored smile played over Marjorie's sunny face. "Other people have a good deal to do too," she said. "I'll come soon, Eric. You can wait for me outside. I won't keep you long; but I have something important to do first."
Eric went away feeling very cross. If Marjorie took to giving herself airs, the world might as well stop at once. What use was Marjorie except to be at everybody's beck and call; and more especially at his—Eric's—beck and call. He kicked his heels into the gravel, thrust his hands into his trousers pockets, and put on all the airs of an ill-used mortal.
Meanwhile Marjorie, whose important business made her round face look intensely solemn, was trotting down the corridor to Miss Nelson's sitting-room. She guessed that she would find the governess there. To her gentle little tap Miss Nelson replied at once, and the little girl came in and stood before her.