the old schoolroom, and gave vent to a
passion of weeping, shedding tears which not even her mother's death
had wrung from her.

CHAPTER XII.

AFTER THE BIRTHDAY.

The usual effects of a holiday were visible the next morning. The
children were all a little tired and out of sorts. It was difficult
for the schoolroom party to get into harness again, and even Eric and
the nursery children were somewhat captious and discontented.

"Father's birthday is the farthest off of all now," said little Molly,
the five-year-old darling. "There's no birthday like father's, and
it's the farthest off of all. I'm dreadful sorry."

"Oh, shut up," said Eric. "Who wants to hear that dismal dirge."

"Molly says that about the birthdays always the next morning,"
volunteered Dick, who was a year older, and who wanted to curry favor
with Eric by agreeing with him. "Molly _is_ a silly, isn't she?" he
added, fixing his big blue eyes admiringly on his brother.

"You're a greater," snapped Eric. "Who cried yesterday when the ant
stung him, and who would eat too much plumcake?"

Dick looked inclined to cry again, and Molly laughed maliciously.
Altogether the atmosphere was charged with electricity, and the
entrance of Ermengarde, her face considerably disfigured with the scar
she had received when she fell the night before, was hailed with
naughty delight by the children.

A torrent of questions assailed her. Had she fought with Marjorie in
the night, and had Marjorie come off victorious? Oh, brave Marjorie,
to dare to assail the acknowledged beauty of the family! What _had_
happened to Ermie? Surely she had not inflicted the wound on herself?

Basil was seated in his usual place near the head of the table. He had
scarcely heard the little scrimmage of words which was going on on all
sides. Basil was in a brown study, and, as Eric expressed it, as cross
as a bear with a sore head.

When Ermengarde entered the room, he glanced at her for a second; but
contrary to his wont, he took no notice when the children began to
laugh and gibe.

Ermengarde's place beside Basil was empty. She seated herself, and as
the children continued to make remarks and to laugh, turned her head
impatiently away. Their quips affected her in reality only as
pin-pricks, but she was very much afraid that Miss Nelson would
notice the disfiguring cut on her brow.

"Do be quiet, children," said Marjorie. "Eric, can't you see that
Ermie has a headache? Can't