No one spoke; all looked embarrassed, except little Loulou, who was pirouetting about, paying little attention.
“I see—you don’t!”
Honor was silent for a moment, thinking. Then, suddenly, a flame seemed to surge up within her. She did not need dark hair this time; red hair would do to be angry with. She sprang to her feet. Her blue eyes flashed, and she clenched her hands, facing them all.
“Very well!” she said. “Then—that is all! You have sent Maria to Coventry: I go with her! Good-by!”
She was gone. The girls looked at one another with blank faces.
“Oh, Patricia!” cried Stephanie. “We can’t send Moriole to Coventry! She has just come back to us, and we all missed her so dreadfully! Do make up with Maria!”
“Pooh!” said Patricia. “She’ll come back. Honor isn’t going to leave us and take up with Maria Patterson. I give her half an hour!”
Honor flew to Maria’s room, her eyes blazing, her cheeks on fire. As she entered, Maria looked up, a spark of hope in her eyes; but at sight of Honor’s face, she cowered down in her chair and covered her face with her hands, with a broken moan.
“You couldn’t!” she said. “I knew you couldn’t! I knew they wouldn’t believe you. Thank you just as much for trying, Honor!”
“Hateful, hateful creatures!” Honor stamped her foot and clenched her hands. “I never want to speak to any of them again. Come, Maria, come out with me! They needn’t speak to us, and we certainly will not speak to them. We’ll live in Coventry together!” And she laughed a defiant laugh.