"I can make nothing of it," answered Meg, "and I thought—I did not know—" then she stopped, still more confused at the smile I could by no means repress.
Rosamond came to her aid.
"Margaret, why not say at once that you are sorry for what you said about Vevette, and that you will be glad if she will overlook it and help you again. That is the easiest way out of the trouble."
I expected to see Meg angry, but she was not.
"Thank you, Rosamond, that is what I mean," said she. "I was too hasty in condemning Vevette, and I am sorry, and shall be very glad of her help. Will that be enough, cousin, or must I ask downright Dunstable here to make my peace for me?"
"That is enough, and more than enough," said I. "I will help you, of course, though I have also a pupil down here."
And I told her about Lois. She was greatly pleased, and we talked again over my plan of establishing a dame school for the little ones, under the care of the widow and her lame daughter. Margaret, with all her pride, had not an atom of venom or malice about her. Once she made up her mind to pass over a thing, that was the end of it.
"And how is Betty?" I asked.
"She is far from well, and keeps her chamber the last two days," said Margaret; "but my mother cannot tell what ails her, only she is giddy as soon as she sits up. She is very easily disturbed, and likes to stay alone best."
"I hope it is not a fever," said I.