“None of us,” said Constance; “only we want proof.”
“What do you mean?” said Annie, still quite calm in appearance, but feeling a little uncomfortable nevertheless.
“We want proof,” repeated Constance.
“Yes,” said Agnes—“proof.”
“Proof, proof!” echoed several other voices. “Mabel writes verses—very clever verses. We want to see them.”
“So you shall,” said Annie at once.
“Oh Annie, I won’t show them,” said poor Mabel.
“Nonsense, May! that is absurd. Girls, you can see them to-morrow afternoon. To-morrow is our half-holiday; Mabel will read her verses aloud herself to you at four o’clock to-morrow on this identical spot. She has no time now, for the gong has just sounded for tea.”
Mabel turned a flushed, surprised face towards Annie. Priscilla stood perfectly still in unbounded astonishment. The girls were not quite satisfied; still, there was nothing to complain of. They must go to tea now. Immediately after tea school-work would recommence; there would not be a moment of time to read the verses before the following day. Annie, leaving Mabel to her fate, marched into the house, her hand on Constance Smedley’s arm.
“I am glad I came out,” she said. “Poor May is quite abnormally sensitive on the subject of her verses.”