"Then why does he flirt with Gwen?"
"From something he let drop—something I heard him say—I think he has a bit of a grudge against the vicar. Thinks vicar looks down on him. Would like to put a spoke in his wheel."
Melicent made a small sound of dismay. "What a cad!" she said.
"That's what I think."
"It shows my uncle to have been right in holding a low opinion of him," was the contemptuous verdict.
"Eh, but you hit straight!" he returned, in admiration. "Only, if he'd been better treated the cur wouldn't bite."
They had no chance to say more, for two of the girls, all shyness now wholly cast aside, came charging down the path, and with shrieks warned them to make a dash for home.
Melicent was left in great discomfort. She had knowledge which she could not tell what to do with. She felt, rather than knew, that to warn Gwen would be worse than futile; especially now, when her refusal to play hide-and-seek had irritated all the girls against her, as well as Tommy, whose conscience was sore, and who consequently was for once downright ill-tempered.
Melicent had a dreary walk home. She would have been utterly discouraged but for the fact that she was to see the Helstons again on Monday; and some chance there must be that day for her to tell her friends all that was in her heart.
Life at the Vicarage was too aimless. She had one hundred pounds of her very own, and she was determined somehow to make this yield her two years' good schooling.