We went upstairs to lay aside our wraps; and remembering I had left something I needed in the hall, I ran down for it while Mattie and Kate were busy washing their hands in the dressing-closet, chattering all the time. As I passed a hall window I saw it had grown suddenly dark, and that rain-drops were pattering against the pane. It was a sudden summer storm, and I began to think of my particular dread—thunder and lightning.
I found what I wanted, and sped back; but on entering the room, I heard my name spoken by Mattie, and stood still in a sort of nameless wonder or dread.
"I had to bring her," Mattie was saying; "I wanted to put her under an obligation to me, don't you see, so that she wouldn't tell of different things. I can always hold this over her. Doesn't she look horrid in my clothes?"
A laugh from Kate was the answer.
"Little goose," Mattie went on, "I wish we could get rid of her. She'd spoil any fun. I've taken to her at school because all the girls told me she was Miss Harding's favorite, it's a good thing for me, you see."
For a moment the revelation of Mattie's real character overpowered me. I do not remember that at first I thought of anything but that she was not what I had believed her to be. Then mortification, fright, tears—everything—seemed to follow, and then, in a sort of dream, I turned and ran down-stairs and out into the rain, thinking only that I must find Laura and ask her to help me.
I knew the way to Professor Patton's house; but long before I reached it I was drenched through, Mattie's thin muslin being draggled and soaked when I stumbled up against the big doorway, within which lights were shining, and voices sounding of laughter and happy cheer.
I wondered, long afterward, what the servant thought of me, standing there in my soaked finery. Whatever she thought, little was said. In a moment Laura appeared from a side door, coming out with a look that went to my heart. I tried to speak. I began to cry; then I remember moving a little toward her, and darkness seemed to close in about me.
Laura Sydney was—and is—one of those people who always know just what to do on every occasion. So it was no surprise to me to find myself, on coming to consciousness, warm and snug in a comfortable bed, with a tray of tea and toast at my side, and curtains drawn about the windows, on which the rain was beating. It took only a few words to make Laura understand everything. She sent a message to Mattie and one to Miss Harding, and the next day brought that kind lady to Professor Patton's house. I was ill with a feverish cold: perhaps that is why they were all so good to me. At all events, when I had freely confessed all of my wrong-doing there seemed no more to be said, and the only reference made to it was when I went home and Aunt Anna reminded me I had spoiled Mattie's dress.