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

d.i.c.k 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 a.s.sailed her. Had she fought with Marjorie in the night, and had Marjorie come off victorious? Oh, brave Marjorie, to dare to a.s.sail 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-p.r.i.c.ks, 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 you keep them from making so much noise, Eric?"

"Quiet then, young 'uns," said Eric. "Can't you see that the Prime Minister of her Royal Highness has uttered a mandate?"

The children laughed noisily, and at that moment Miss Nelson, who had been absorbed over the contents of a particularly interesting letter, raised her head with a start.

"Gently, little ones! What is all this noise about?" she said. "Molly and d.i.c.k, you must have breakfast with nurse, if you can't behave better in the schoolroom. Good-morning, Ermengarde, my dear. I am sorry I shall be obliged to give you a bad mark for being late at breakfast. Why, my dear child," changing her note to one of concern, "what has happened to you? You have got quite an ugly scar your forehead. How did you get it?"

"I fell," said Ermengarde, in a low voice.

"You fell--where?"

Ermengarde felt that Basil had ceased to use his knife and fork, while he listened for her reply. She seized a cup of scalding tea, and choked over its contents.

"Where did you fall my dear?" asked the governess kindly.

"Please, ma'am, Ermengarde and Maggie had a stand-up fight in the middle of the night," interrupted Eric. "Oh, my stars!" he added, _sotto voce_, "if fight and night ain't a rhyme made unbeknown. Now I can wish."

"Shut up!" growled Basil.

"Eric, be quiet," said the governess.

She turned again to Ermengarde. Her manner was very gentle.

"Where did you fall, dear?" she said, "You have given yourself a very nasty cut, and should have come to me for some dressing for it. But where did it happen, my love?"

"In the park," said Ermengarde, in a low voice. "I fell over a bramble and cut myself."

"I never saw you fall, Ermie," said Marjorie. "Was it when we all had that race, just when the fireworks were over? How brave of you not to make a fuss! it must have been then."

"You don't look well, dear," continued the governess. "Your eyes have red rings round them, and you are paler than such a healthy little girl ought to be. Have you a headache?"

"Yes," confessed Ermengarde. She could at least be truthful here, for her head ached considerably.

"You shall have some of my eau de Cologne to use if you like, darling," whispered Marjorie.

"Now, children," said Miss Nelson, rising from the breakfast-table, and making one of those prim little speeches which Ermengarde detested, "having had our day of pleasure, we will return with greater zest to our usual employments. Little ones, go quietly up to nurse. No noise, please. Leave the breakfast-room hand in hand. Boys, I must request of you not to disturb your sisters with any hammering or noisy carpentering this morning."

"Please, are the ferrets far enough away for me to have a quiet little game with them?" asked Eric meekly. He pulled his forelock as he spoke, and put on the air of a charity-schoolboy.

Miss Nelson favored him with the shadow of a smile, and continued;

"Ermengarde, Marjorie, and Lucy, we will meet in the schoolroom for our usual morning work in half an hour. Ah, what is the matter, George?"

The old butler had entered un.o.bserved.

"If you please, ma'am," he said in his most respectful tones, "my master's compliments, and he would be obliged if you and Miss Wilton would come to him for a few minutes to the study before you begins the morning work."

"Certainly, George. Tell Mr. Wilton we will be with him in a minute or two."

The governess flushed up a little at this unexpected summons, but the color which came into her faded cheeks was nothing at all to the brilliant red which suffused Ermengarde's face. She darted an angry inquiring look at Basil, who for the first time met her glance with a proud cold gaze. He turned on his heel, and leisurely left the room, the other children following his example.

"Come, Ermie, we may as well see what your father wants with us," said Miss Nelson cheerfully. "My love, I am sorry you have a headache, and that you fell that time without letting anyone know."

"Please, I would much rather not go to father to the study," said Ermengarde, backing a pace or two. She looked really frightened.

"You think your father will be vexed about that cut on your brow, dear? But I can explain that. You have really been brave, not to make a fuss, nor to spoil the pleasure of the other children. Come, my dear, we must not keep your father waiting."

Miss Nelson took Ermengarde's hand; it lay cold and irresponsive in her clasp. They left the breakfast-room together, and a moment later were in Mr. Wilton's presence.

The father who was the heart and soul of the birthday, who was everybody's playmate, and hail-fellow-well-met even with the youngest of his children, was a totally different person from Mr. Wilton, owner of Wilton Chase, and the master, not only of his extensive property, but of poor timid Miss Nelson and of wondering Ermengarde. Mr. Wilton could be the jolliest of companions if he pleased, but he also could be stern, with a severity which Basil inherited. At such times his face was scarcely prepossessing. He came of a proud race, and pride, mixed with an almost overbearing haughtiness of manner, made him a person to be dreaded at such moments.

As soon as Miss Nelson and Ermengarde entered the study, they saw that Mr. Wilton had put on the manner which made him to be feared. Miss Nelson, who had thawed under the genial sunshine of the day before, now froze, and her speech instantly became broken, nervous, and ill at ease. Ermengarde frowned, turned her head away, and got that blank look over her face which always made her such a difficult child to deal with.

"Good-morning, Miss Nelson," said Mr. Wilton, "I have sent for you and Ermengarde together, in order that I may ask for an explanation. I did not moot the question yesterday, although the circ.u.mstance which aroused my displeasure occurred the day before. Pray take this chair, Miss Nelson."

Mr. Wilton did not offer Ermengarde any seat. Beyond a brief glance, he did not look at her. The little girl stood silent by her governess's side. Whatever was coming she owned now to a sense of relief. Her father was alluding to something which had occurred the day before yesterday. Basil had therefore not betrayed her--the worst was not known. She roused herself from a brief revery to hear her father speaking.

"Some time ago, Miss Nelson, I made a request to you, and I gave Ermengarde a very strict command. I find that my command has been defied by Ermengarde, and I wish to know if there has been any negligence on your part."

"My dear sir, to what do you allude?" asked Miss Nelson.

"To something which you cannot have forgotten, for I spoke seriously to you on the subject. I said that Ermengarde was to hold no intercourse with a little girl called Susan Collins. I had my reasons for this, quite independent of the fact that the child belongs to a lower cla.s.s of life. I know that she is the daughter of a vain and silly mother, and, even if she were her equal by birth, would be the worst possible companion for Ermengarde. Did I not make my wishes on this point very plain to you. Miss Nelson?"

Miss Nelson rose from her seat.

"Certainly, my dear sir; most certainly," she said; "and I--I agree with you. I more than agree with you. Susan is not a companion for Ermengarde. I have been careful about your wishes, Mr. Wilton; I respect them, and my own fully coincide with them. I only--I only gave Ermengarde permission to go to Susan for five minutes yesterday because the child was feverish and badly hurt after her accident."

"Her accident! Yes, poor little girl, I have heard of that; but I was not alluding to yesterday, nor to anything that occurred then. Please sit down again, Miss Nelson; I see you are not to blame. Ermengarde, come here. Who were you walking with the day before yesterday, between eleven and twelve o'clock, in the Nightingale Grove?"

Ermengarde's face turned first white and then crimson. Her eyes sought the ground. She bit her lips and clasped her hands nervously.

"Answer me at once," said Mr. Wilton, in his sternest voice.

The little girl made an effort to speak. Suddenly she did a thing which astonished both her father and the governess. She flew to Miss Nelson's side, and clasped her arms round her neck.