The Children of Wilton Chase Part 26

"Father, I want you to let Ermie go instead of me."

"No, that I won't; she has been a very disobedient girl. Run away, now, Maggie; it's all settled that you are to go."

"But Ermie was asked in the first instance?"

"Yes, child, yes; but I've explained matters to Lady Russell."

"And Lilias _is_ Ermie's friend."

"What a little pleader you are, Maggie. Ermie should be a good girl, and then she'd have the treats."

"Father, couldn't you punish me instead of her? That is sometimes done, isn't it?"

"Sometimes, Maggie, But I think Ermengarde would be all the better for going through the punishment she richly merits."

"Truly, father, I don't think so, and I know Ermie so well. I know, father, she's awfully unhappy, and she's getting so cross and hard, and perhaps this would soften her. I can't make out what's up with her, but I think this might soften her. _Do_ try it, father; do, please, father."

"Come and sit by me for a moment on this sofa, Maggie. I see you're frightfully in earnest, and you're a dear good child. Everyone speaks well of you, Maggie, so I'm bound in honor to hear you out. You'll tell me the whole truth, whatever it is, won't you, Maggie?"

"Oh, won't I just! What a dear, darling father you are! Nearly as nice as the birthday father!"

"_Nearly_, puss? Not quite, eh? Well, you suit me uncommonly well, and it is a comfort to have an honest outspoken child. What with Ermengarde's disobedience, and Basil's disgraceful want of openness, I scarcely know what to do at times."

"Father, Basil has done nothing wrong."

"Oh, you take his part, eh? You wouldn't, if you had seen that obstinate young dog last night. I see you know all about it, and I may as well tell you, Maggie, that I am deeply displeased with Basil. I am much more angry with him than I am with Ermengarde, for somehow or other I measured him by his mother's standard, and she often said that Basil couldn't be underhand."

"Mother was right," said Marjorie; "he couldn't."

"My dear Maggie, events have proved the reverse. But now we won't discuss this matter. Here, pop under my arm; let's have a cozy five minutes while I listen to all your wonderful reasons for not going to Glendower."

CHAPTER XV.

LILIAS.

Ermengarde had just finished her morning toilet when the bedroom door was banged violently open. It shut with a loud report and Marjorie, breathless and triumphant, appeared before her.

"What will you give for some good news?" she said, dancing excitedly up and down. "There, you shall give three guesses. Something so good, _so_ jolly. You _will_ be delighted. Now guess! What's going to happen?"

Ermengarde was in one of her worst humors. Everything had gone wrong with her. There was a load of oppression and care on her heart, and now she was seriously uneasy about Basil. She was not brave enough to exonerate him by confessing her own sins, but it was torture to her to think that he should be unjustly suspected of anything mean and dishonorable.

"_Do_ guess! It's something so delightful. You _will_ be pleased,"

repeated Marjorie, continuing to dance wildly up and down.

"I do wish, Maggie, you'd understand that other people are not in the frantic state of bliss you are in. Your manners lately are _too_ intolerable. I shall ask father if I cannot have a separate bedroom, for I will not have you banging in and out of the room in the horrid tomboy way you have. I don't want to hear your good news. It's nothing that can concern me, that I am sure."

"Oh, indeed, truly it concerns you."

"I don't want to hear it. I know you and your raptures. It will be a perfect comfort when you are at Glendower, and I can have a little peace!"

"That's just it! I'm not going to Glendower."

"Oh! You have got into a sc.r.a.pe too? Well, I must say I think it's time your righteous pride should have a fall. I have no patience with little girls who are always in everyone's good books, and who are set up as patterns. But what's the matter? You seem uncommonly delighted at losing your fine treat."

"I would be, if you'd speak ever so little kindly to me, Ermie, I really am not the horrid girl you think."

"I don't think anything about you, child."

"Well, you shouldn't say things about me. You shouldn't say what you don't think."

"Oh, for goodness' sake, don't begin to moralize! Was that the breakfast gong?"

"Yes. And you'd better be quick eating up your breakfast, Ermie, for you won't have too much time."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you'll have to tell Hudson about your dresses and things. _You_ are going to Glendower!"

The dull look left Ermengarde's eyes. They began to sparkle. She stood quite still for a moment. Then she turned slowly round and faced her little sister. All Marjorie's soul was s.h.i.+ning out of her face at this moment.

"Do you mean this, Maggie?" asked Ermengarde.

"Of course I mean it. Aren't you glad? Aren't you delighted?"

"But how has it been managed? Father said he'd punish me for talking to Susan Collins, and he said you were to go in my stead."

"Well, now, you are to go instead of me. It's just turned round.

Aren't you very glad?"

"Well, I did want to see Lilias. She's more the sort of friend for me than for you; isn't she, Maggie?"

"I suppose so," said Marjorie, suppressing a quick sigh.

"And of course Lady Russell wanted me, not you."

"Yes, I told father I was sure she'd like you best."

"Oh, you spoke to father about it?"

"Why, of course, Ermie."

"Then you haven't got into disgrace yourself?"

"No, it wasn't that--it wasn't because I was in----" Marjorie turned her head away, and tears welled up slowly into her big wide-open gray eyes.