ounted to
Ermengarde's brow. What was the matter with Basil? He was always
good-natured, certainly, but at another time he would have jumped at
her offer, for Miss Nelson would really have been just as happy in the
wagonette. Ermengarde now remembered that Basil had been a little
queer to her all day, a tiny bit distant, not quite his cordial self.
Could he suspect anything? But no, that was absolutely impossible.

Miss Nelson thought her eldest pupil rather sulky during the drive
back. She sighed once or twice as she glanced at the girl's
irresponsive face. Ermengarde was certainly difficult to manage.
Should she continue to take charge of her? Would it not be best to own
at once that over this girl she had no influence, and to ask Mr.
Wilton to remove Ermengarde from her care?

The party reached home, and supper and fireworks, according to
Marjorie's programme, were all crowded into the happy day. But at last
tired eyes could keep open no longer, the small children were tucked
into their nests, and the elder ones were by no means sorry to follow
their example.

"Oh, I am tired out," said Marjorie to Ermengarde. "It _is_ nice to
think of getting into one's bed, and going off into a long, long
sleep. And hadn't we a happy day, Ermie?"

"Yes," said Ermengarde, in an abstracted voice. She was standing by
the window. She had not attempted to undress.

Hudson generally helped the little girls to prepare for the night, but
as she was particularly busy reducing Chaos to order downstairs,
Marjorie had said they could get on quite well alone for this one
evening. She now came to Ermengarde, to ask her to unfasten a knot in
her dress.

"And why don't you take off your own things, Ermie?" she said.

"There's no particular hurry," said Ermengarde.

"But aren't you dreadfully tired?"

"No. I did not get up at four o'clock this morning."

"Oh, what fun we had waking father!" began Marjorie, "If you had only
seen Eric; and father's face when first he opened his eyes. I do
believe--why, what's the matter, Ermie, have you a headache?"

"No; how you do worry one, Maggie! Go to bed, and try to stop talking;
I want to think, and to be let alone. I'll come to bed when I feel
inclined."

A torrent of words came to the tip of Marjorie's tongue, but she
restrained them. It was Ermie's custom sometimes to be very snappy and
uncommunicative. She concluded the wisest policy was to let her sister
alone, and to go to sleep herself