"It was my father, my honorable good father. I am too humble to care. But my noble father!"
She rose quickly and walked across to the window. If there were tears in her eyes Molly should not see them. Having drawn the blind, she drew a deep breath and came back to the bed. But Molly was doing some rapid thinking during that brief interval. Some one had been telling Otoyo that they had made game of her father—and that some one——
But Molly was too angry to think coherently.
"Otoyo," she began, "you know how much all the Queen's girls think of you. You are really our property, child. If any of us felt that we had hurt or grieved you, we would really never forgive ourselves."
"But my father, he was mock-ed. Of me it was of not much matter."
"Child, what we did was in innocent fun. It was only that we repeated his funny English, even funnier than yours, and we have often teased you about your adverbs, haven't we?"
"Yes," admitted Otoyo, "but this was made to be so cruel. It cut me——" she choked.
"Who repeated it to you, Otoyo?" asked Molly with sudden calmness, afraid to give rein to her indignation for fear of doing rash things. "People who tell things like that are quite capable of inventing them or at least making them much worse."
"I have given my word not to speak the name," answered Otoyo.
It was almost time for the lecture now and Molly slipped down on her knees beside the bed and put her arms around Otoyo's waist.