“I should so like to wear it to-morrow,” she said, “and I can’t make out why you won’t let me. If it is my bangle, mayn’t I wear it when I like?”
“But it isn’t your bangle—at least at present, and it won’t be yours ever if you make a fuss. Come, Fanchon, do you want to quarrel with me? and oh—I am so tired! My dear child, give it here—I will take it.” Brenda snatched the bangle from her pupil’s wrist. “It would be such a pity,” she said, “if anything destroyed our fun—and any one could see with half an eye that Mr Burbery was greatly struck with you. Harry told me as much. Mr Burbery is going to be exceedingly rich some day; he also is in the mercantile world: there’s no other world worth considering, I can tell you that, Fanchon.”
“He knows a lot about bangles, anyhow,” said Fanchon, “for he was greatly struck with mine; indeed, I was thankful he was, for I couldn’t utter a word, and didn’t know from Adam what to say until he began to talk of it. And he said—oh, Brenda! that there is one advertised for in all the papers just like mine. I told him I wasn’t a bit surprised, for mine was so very beautiful.”
Brenda’s heart sank down to her very boots. Her rosy, radiant face turned white.
“There!” she exclaimed, “I see you are nothing whatever but a gossip. I don’t know when I will be able to let you have the bangle again. But now let’s come to bed, and let’s tread softly—we can manage without a light of course; it wouldn’t do to wake Josephine and Nina.”
So the girls slipped into the darkened, hot bedroom and presently got into bed, Fanchon to sleep and dream of Joe Burbery and the lovely bangle, and the sad pity it was that she could not display its charms to-morrow—but Brenda to lie awake; fear—dull dreadful fear tapping at her heart.