For the next half hour she was not so talkative, however, and after a while she stole away; for in spite of her petulance at Larry's words, they had suggested a train of thought which made her want to be by herself. She went up to the oratory and stayed there a long time, amid the twilight shadows. Finally the ringing of the supper bell put an end to her musings. She knelt a few minutes before the statue, and then ran down to the dining-room. She was very quiet all the evening; and, to Mrs. Clayton's surprise, the family heard no more of the May drama.
The next day, at school, Abby waylaid Marion Gaines in one of the corridors.
"I want to speak to you," she began.
"Well, what's the matter, Abby? What makes you so serious this morning?" inquired Marion.
"Nothing—only I've been thinking about the May piece, and I want to tell you that I'd rather not be Queen," faltered the little girl,
"You'd rather not be Queen!" repeated Marion, in astonishment. "Why not? I thought you were delighted to be chosen."
"So I was—yesterday," the little girl hastened to say; for she would not have Marion think she did not appreciate the compliment.
"Then what has caused you to change your mind so suddenly?" Marion went on. "What a fickle child you are, to be sure!"
"It is not that," stammered poor Abby, a good deal confused; "but—but—well, you know the Blessed Virgin is Queen of May, and it seems as if we ought not even to play at having any other Queen."
Marion stared at her incredulously. "And so missy has a scruple about it?" she said, smiling.