“Tell her—perhaps she will know. Now that I remember, she drove up in the victoria with mother from the station.”
“It is my bangle!” said Nelly. “Mother brought one for me, and the other for Pauline. Mine had a turquoise clasp. She got them from Paris and they are so very, very, very pretty; and Pauline is wearing hers, and mine is gone!”
“Oh, but—how provoking! It must be found, of course,” said Brenda, putting on an air of great sympathy, and wondering how she could get it out of her own pocket without suspicion being directed to her.
Her first impulse was simply to say to the child: “I wonder if I know anything about it,” and then to tell how she had picked it up. But Nellie Hungerford’s next remark prevented her doing so.
“Mother is quite certain that she lost it in the train, for she remembers taking the parcel out when she was looking for some sandwiches in her bag; she noticed then that the string was loose. Mother is convinced that she lost it in the train. Oh dear! oh dear! I should not mind quite so badly if Pauline was not wearing hers. There, Fred—do you see her?” continued the little girl. “It is shining on her arm, and that horrid ruby is gleaming like a bit of fire. I am miserable without mine and, although mother will get me another, it won’t be at all the same thing not wearing it on break-up day.”
“Well, dear—it cannot be helped now,” said the brother, “and I see one of the teachers calling you. I suppose you must take your place. You look very nice indeed, Nellie, and no one will miss the bangle.”
“Do I really look nice?” asked Nellie, fixing her pretty eyes on her brother’s face.
“Of course you do,” he answered.
“You look charming, Miss Hungerford,” suddenly interposed Brenda, “and if I may venture to give an opinion, I prefer little girls without bangles.”
This was a remark which at once pleased young Hungerford and displeased his sister.