Now it was rather unfortunate that Mr. Carleton should have chosen just this particular time for reminding his daughter of her duty. As a rule, his words would have produced the desired effect, for Elsie stood considerably in awe of her father, but just at present she was very angry with Marjorie, and this admonition only made her angrier still.
"Marjorie is all right," she said, sulkily; "she manages to have a good time wherever she goes. If you knew as much about her as I do you wouldn't worry for fear she might be neglected."
Mr. Carleton did not look satisfied, but he had an appointment to keep, and there was no time for argument, so, after giving his daughter a good-bye kiss, and telling her to be an unselfish little girl, he hurried away, and had soon forgotten the incident in the interest of more important matters.
Elsie did not go back to the parlor, but went at once to her mother's room, where she remained for some time with the door closed. Marjorie, having finished her breakfast, wandered aimlessly over to the window, where she stood looking down at the crowds of people and vehicles in the street below. It was a lovely morning and, early as it was, the park seemed full of children. Some had already mounted their ponies, and others were on roller skates or bicycles. How Marjorie longed to join them, but going out alone was strictly forbidden. She was feeling very unhappy, and more homesick than at any time since coming to New York.
"I must get something to do or I shall make a goose of myself and begin to cry," she said desperately, and picking up the first book she found on the table, she plunged into it haphazard, and when Elsie returned she found her cousin to all appearances quite absorbed in "The Letters of Queen Victoria."
Elsie did not speak, but seating herself at the piano, began practicing exercises as if her life depended on it. Marjorie closed her book, and sat watching her cousin in silence for several minutes; then she spoke.
"Elsie."
"Well, what is it?" inquired Elsie, wheeling round on the piano stool.
"Aren't you going to be friends with me?"
"I certainly am not unless you intend to apologize for the outrageous things you said to me last night. I've been telling Mamma about it, and she is very angry."