This started another outburst, and what he didn’t mean by “fleed” simply wasn’t worth meaning.
“Go ahead, Alma, we know he—fleed,” prompted Betta.
“‘After I ran’” (prudent Alma), “‘I never had the courage to make myself known to you,’” she perused. “‘But when I heard your companions taunt you——’”
“There! Taunting her! I told you to be good——” Wyn’s interruption was inevitable.
“It is no use in my trying to be sociable,” said the sensitive Alma. “But I thought you would all be interested.”
“There is not much more to read,” announced the popular member. “He just says that soon—soon he will come.”
“Oh, joy!” shouted Doro, rolling over in the grass. “Let me know in time!”
“They’re just idiots, Alma. Come on with me and leave them to guess the rest,” proposed the astute Betta, the confidante of girls. “I want to hear it if nobody else does.”
Without even a giggle they jumped up and seized Alma. One could not be sure whose arm was most restraining, but she changed her mind about going with Betta. Instead she opened the famed sheet again and read:
“‘My conscience has troubled me ever since, dear, but I was forced to do as I did. Drop your answer——’” She paused. “I don’t intend to read that part,” she calmly announced, and no amount of coaxing would induce her to relent. No one should know where the letter to the prince was to be mailed, Alma was determined on that point at least.