"I am just a little tired," she said to Mrs. Tindall, "and as I want to look my best and be ready for any amount of rambling, I will say good-night now."
"This is very early, my dear, but I am sure you are wise, and Pauline will do well to follow your example. If only young people would believe it, there is no better preserver of good looks than early hours," replied Mrs. Tindall.
Gertrude assented, and managed to get her thinking done soon enough to allow of some "beauty sleep." She came down in the morning in a charming but simple dress, looking as gay and bright as though nothing had occurred to disturb her on the preceding day.
She was especially affectionate to Pauline, and answered her friend's inquiring look with a frank smile. A little later, amid the bustle of preparation for starting, she whispered in her friend's ear, "Pauline, I was very cross and stupid yesterday. I took an altogether wrong view of things. Forgive my ill-tempers, darling, and, if you can, forget them, as I want to forget what caused them."
Pauline's face brightened. "I am so glad," she replied. "I felt quite distressed last night, because I had been the cause of the trouble. I never meant it. I could not have guessed that you—"
"Hush, darling!" and Gertrude placed her hand playfully on Pauline's lips. "Do not let us go over the ground again. The only thing I ask is that you will not say another word about it. You could only suppose I knew all as well as yourself. I understand the kindness which kept my position and that of the girls at home a secret from ourselves. I was a very naughty child, and you the sweet, sympathetic little friend you always are."
"And shall you not say a word at home—I mean to your mother, or Mr. Richard?"
"Not a word. I decided last night, before I went to sleep even, that since my mother and stepbrother had not chosen to speak about money matters, neither would I. Do you not think I may be well content to go on as I have hitherto done, enjoying the good things of this world without troubling to ask myself who paid for them?"
"I think so, Gertrude, dear—that is, in one sense. When the good things are given by such a kind hand as that of your brother, there can be no painful feeling of obligation in taking. I do believe he is just one of those whose 'heart grows rich in giving,' and that he delights in making everybody happy—most of all his mother and sisters."
"My mother, not his, really," replied Gertrude.