for a few minutes.

"Ermengarde," she said then, "this is not the time for me to say I am
sorry for you. I have a duty to perform, and there are moments when
duties must come first of all. Susan Collins's excitement, her almost
unnatural desire to see you, have got to be accounted for. There is a
cloud over Basil that must be explained away. There is a mystery about
a little old miniature of mine: it was stolen by some one, and broken
by some one. The story of that miniature somebody must tell. At the
risk of your father's displeasure I took Maggie to visit Susy Collins
the other night. You were away on a visit with your father, and I
allowed Maggie to fetch you home. There is undoubtedly an adequate
reason for this, but I must know it, for I have to explain matters to
Mr. Wilton; therefore, Ermengarde, if you will not tell me fully and
frankly and at once all that occurred between you and Susy yesterday,
I will go myself and see the Collinses, and will learn the whole story
from Susy's own lips."

"Oh, you will not," said Ermengarde, "You never could be so cruel!"

All her self-possession had deserted her. Her face was white, her
voice trembled.

"I must go, Ermie. Wretched child, why don't you save yourself by
telling me all you know at once?"

"I cannot, I cannot!"

Ermengarde turned her head away. Miss Nelson rose to leave the room.

"I am going to my room," she said; "I will wait there for half an
hour. If at the end of half an hour you do not come to me, I must go
to see the Collinses."

Ermengarde covered her face with her hands. Miss Nelson left the room.

"Ermie," said Marjorie in her gentlest voice.

"I wish you'd leave me," said Ermengarde. "There would never have been
all this mischief but for you; I do wish you'd go away!"

"If you only would be brave enough to tell the truth," whispered
Marjorie.

"Do, do go away! Leave me to myself."

With great reluctance the little girl left the room. As she sidled
along the wall, she looked back several times. A word, a glance would
have brought her back. But the proud, still little figure by the
window did not move a muscle. The angry eyes looked steadily outward;
the lips were firmly closed. Marjorie banged the door after her; she
did not mean to, but the open window had caused a draught, and
Ermengarde with a long shiver realized that she was alone.

"Now, that's a comfort," she murmured; "now I can think. Have I time
to rush up to Susy, and tell