"She won't say; she won't speak," the poor woman sobbed, and Agatha, arriving then, bore her back to her room, while Ermengarde, hastily upsetting eau-de-Cologne in every direction, and holding a handkerchief soaked in it to her face to keep off infection, stole into the chamber of the unfortunate Dorris, trying to remember when and where and how the spots characterizing this terrible disease were to be expected.
Dorris had flung herself face downwards on her bed, and was sobbing faintly; the room was in great disorder, drawers open and clothing tossed recklessly about. Some scraps of torn paper, an open blotting-book, and pens and ink on the table, pointed to the writing and tearing up of letters.
At the sound of Ermengarde's cautious entrance the poor girl turned quickly, showing a tear-washed, wild-eyed and miserable, but quite spotless, face.
"Go away, go away! Oh, why can't I die?" she cried wildly, turning back to her original posture, while Ermengarde, carefully keeping the handkerchief to her face, felt her pulse and touched her brow softly, and asked where the pain was and what was the matter.
"And you can ask?" she moaned, "when you were there, and as bad as any of them. Somebody might have told me—privately—I didn't know. They all hate and despise me. I can never—never—nev-nev—never——"
"Dear Miss Boundrish, I am so sorry," cried Ermengarde, suddenly dropping her handkerchief, her terrors, and her precautions, and putting a caressing arm round the sobbing figure on the bed. "We didn't mean it—at least, not more than a quarter of it. It was more than half in joke. And if you hadn't been rude to poor Mrs. Lamb—that put us up—and then we were carried away—forgot ourselves—everybody went one better than everybody else—you know how it is in a game like that. Think no more about it."
"But you do-do-do-don't—think me quite—such a—bib-bib-bibby—beast?"
"Certainly not," firmly and decisively.
"A scrik-scrik-screech-owl?" she sobbed; "a bun-bun-bun-bundle of aff-fec-fec-fectation? So-so-so-soulless——"
"Not in the least, dear child. It was all put on—at least, half was—just our fun. We knew you were a spoilt child, and wanted to give you a lesson, that was all. You are very young, my dear."