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As a matter of fact, most of the girls giggled as she went out through the cloak-room door. "My lady's in a temper!" exclaimed Francie. "Lemons and vinegar!" hinnied Jess. "Why did she fly out like that?" asked Beatrice. "Well, really, Beatrice Jackson, after all the stupid things you said, anybody would fly out, I should think," commented Verity Richmond. "I'm sorry for Ingred.
Linton, and they're to be married in the holidays?" Nora, who was changing a crêpe de chine dress for a serviceable tennis costume, collapsed on to her bed. "Hold me up!" she murmured dramatically. "Why, I didn't know he was a widower!" "Of course he is," endorsed Ingred, "and a most uncomfortable one, I should say. I went to his house once for a music lesson, and it looked in a fearful muddle.
It's easy enough to tell somebody else not to mind," thought Ingred, as, in answer to Miss Clough's beckoning finger, she made her way towards the piano to undergo her ordeal. One point in favor of the recital was that the audience moved about the room and went on buying toys or cups of tea and cakes, and even talking, instead of sitting on rows of seats doing nothing but watching and listening.
Nearer and nearer came the white figure. Its approach was more than flesh and blood could stand. With a wild shriek Fil dashed across the lawn, followed closely by Nora, Ingred, and Verity. "Girls!" cried a clear and well-known voice. "Girls! Stop! What are you doing here?" There was no mistaking the tone of command of the head-mistress.
"I've brought your music too!" said Francie, triumphantly opening a folio, "so you've no excuse for saying you can't remember anything. Who'll play your accompaniment? Here, Ingred!" "Oh! somebody else would do it far better," protested Ingred. "Janie " "I'm no reader." "Lilas?" "Couldn't to save my life!" "Go ahead, Ingred, and don't waste time!" said Lispeth firmly.
To return to Rotherwood is utterly out of the question, and with the price of everything doubled and trebled, and our income in the inverse ratio, it is impossible to keep up so big an establishment nowadays." "Where are we going to live, then?" asked Ingred in a strangled voice. "At the bungalow that Daddy built on the moors.
Instantly most of the girls went scrambling over the stile. Miss Strong, who had bought picture-postcards of the Roman villa, and was addressing them with a stylo-pen, did not follow the exodus. She called to Ingred, however, who was last. "Warn the girls," she said, "not on any account to go into that meadow where there is a horse with a young foal.
For a few moments there was a ghastly silence, while he wiped his face and recovered his dignity. Then he demanded in withering tones: "May I ask what is the meaning of this?" Ingred and Hereward, overwhelmed with confusion, stuttered out apologies and explanations. The old gentleman listened with his busy gray eyebrows knitted and his mouth pursed into a thin line.
"The ball had just been sent over the line by one of the Clinton girls, and our Left Half rolled in. The wing missed the bill, but Ingred took it, and well, I cannot tell you clearly what happened after that. I still have in my mind the picture of Ingred, who, the ball at her side, literally flew up the field, her feet scarcely touching the ground.
By the time Ingred had gathered a fragrant, sweet-smelling bunch and looked round for somebody to admire it, her schoolmates were gone. She hunted about for them, and noticed Verity's green jersey and Kitty's brown tam-o'-shanter in the wood above. Surely they must all be up there together. She was just going to follow, when a qualm of conscience seized her.
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