Blanche made a face at the registrar’s trim, serge-clad back. She was still pouting, because Miss Drexal had not taken sides with her against Frances. Left alone, she hastily finished her letter, addressed an envelope and prepared it for mailing. Then rising, she went to the door, opened it an inch or so and listened intently. Running steps on the stairs caused her to close it noiselessly. She was still within a foot of it when someone knocked.
Tiptoeing to the middle of the room, she called a languid, “Come.”
Ruth entered with an impulsive, “I am sorry you’re not going on the picnic, Blanche. Shall I stay here with you?”
“Oh, no, indeed! Don’t think of such a thing. Go ahead and enjoy yourself. I’ll be all right.” Consternation prompted Blanche’s refusal of Ruth’s companionship. Inspiration caused her to next say: “Ruth, would you mind giving this letter to Martha? Tell her to ask the trunk man to mail it in Lakeview. I’m thankful I had my trunk shipped straight here from home. I won’t need to see the man, or be disturbed by having a trunk banged into the room. Please tell Martha that I don’t care for any luncheon. That will save her the trouble of getting it ready. I have a headache. I am going to lie down and sleep, if I can. I just want to be let alone. You are so nice about such things. You can explain to her, without making her mad. You’d better speak to her just before you start, or else she may tell Miss Drexal that I said I didn’t want any luncheon. It will worry Miss Drexal, and I don’t care to do that. You see, I am trying not to be a bother to anyone. You know how you’d feel about it yourself.”
“Of course.” Blanche’s sudden thoughtfulness toward others rather surprised Ruth. She wondered if, hitherto, she had misjudged the other girl by privately believing her selfish. “I’ll speak to Martha,” she promised. “It’s nice in you to be so thoughtful. You are sure you’d rather I’d not stay with you?”
“Perfectly sure. I hope I’m not so selfish as to let you make a martyr of yourself for me. It was sweet in you to offer to. Now run along, or the girls will be coming up here. I’d rather not see them just now. I was so hurt this morning. It has really made me feel ill.”
“I was sorry—” began Ruth.
“Please don’t.” Blanche held up a protesting hand. “I know you weren’t to blame. Let’s not talk of it.”
“Very well; we won’t,” assured Ruth. “I must go. Good-bye until to-night.”
“Good-bye.” Blanche shrugged mocking shoulders as Ruth vanished. Silently her lips formed the word “Goose!” Cautiously reopening the door, she resumed her listening attitude. No one else came upstairs, however, to express regret for leaving her at the cottage. Soon afterward, the sound of gay voices outside the Heights notified her that the picnickers were about to start on their jaunt. Slipping into the hall, she went cat-footed to a window at its rear, and, concealed by the curtain, watched them swing off toward the forest.