"Good-morning, Ermengarde," she said. "How queer and dragged you look?
Roderick, I want to speak to you."

"I will come to you presently, Elizabeth. I am particularly engaged
just now."

"But you are not going to take that child in through the front
entrance?"

"Will you allow me to pass, please?"

Mr. Wilton's voice was so firm that his sister made no further
comment, but with a shrug of her shoulders turned aside.

"If only Elizabeth were a different woman, I might not have scenes
like this," murmured the poor man.

He went to his study, and there, to his great astonishment, found
Marjorie and Basil both waiting for him.

"We saw you coming up the field" said Marjorie at once. "And I knew
Ermie had told. I knew it by her face, and the way she walked. I told
Basil so, and I said we would come in here, for I guessed you'd bring
Ermie here. Dear Ermie, you are brave now! Dear Ermie!"

Marjorie ran up to her sister.

"It's all going to be quite right now," she said. And she raised her
flushed eager face, and looked at her father.

Mr. Wilton went straight to Basil's side.

"I misunderstood you, my boy; forgive me," he said.

Ermengarde stood erect and stiff. She had not shed a tear, nor made
any response to Marjorie's words. Her whole soul was in her face,
however. She was watching her father's greeting of Basil. She waited
for its effect.

The few words uttered by Mr. Wilton were magical. Something seemed to
flash out of Basil's eyes. They looked straight up into his father's,
then dropped to the ground.

"Father," he murmured. His father grasped his hand.

"O Basil," suddenly sobbed Ermie. Her fortitude gave way; she rushed
to her brother and almost groveled at his feet.

"Now, what's to be done?" said Mr. Wilton, turning in a perplexed kind
of way to his younger daughter. "I confess it, I never felt more
confused and put out in all my life. I brought Ermengarde here to
punish her most severely."

"Oh, please, father, don't! Let it be a full, complete, jolly kind of
forgiveness all round. Look at Basil, father."

Mr. Wilton turned his head. Basil was on his knees, and his arms were
round Ermie, her head rested on his shoulder.

"Oh, father, do let us come out and leave them together for a little!"

"Really, Maggie, you don't treat me with a bit of respect," said Mr.
Wilton. But his voice was low, the frown had cleared from his brow,
and he pinched Marjorie's firm round cheek.

"I suppose