“Didn’t even thank you?” asked Miss Beckwith, who always took part in the girls’ fun.
“Well, she may have,” replied Wyn, “but that didn’t impress me. It was those sandwiches and those cakes——”
“You didn’t make those, Wynnie?” demanded Treble. “If you did we won’t ask for volunteers. We’ll wish the job on you.”
Alma was quiet during all the merry chatting, but Thistle, who could not resist one more thrust, said next:
“Thinking of him, dearie?” she asked. “And his little velvet coat——”
But the joke had a most astonishing effect. Alma sniffed, breathed in quick little gasps, and the next moment asked to be excused from the table.
“She’s crying!” declared Betta.
“Horrid girls!” murmured Doro. “I told you she had had enough of princes.”
“But to cry! Alma isn’t like that,” said Wyn in real surprise.
Miss Beckwith, who had reached the end of her lunch and was waiting for the others to finish, slipped away after Alma.