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Updated: June 1, 2025
It was a protracted ceremony, and the courses were well served and admirably cooked; the wine came from a carefully selected cellar, and was beyond reproach. Madge presided at the table, and joined in the conversation; but it evidently cost her an effort to be cheerful. After the dessert she rose. "Will you and Mr. Royle excuse me, father?" she said. "I know you want to smoke."
"'Cause" the other's look was met squarely "'cause I'm going down there to see him." "Ah!" breathed the governess. "I'm going to-day," went on Gwendolyn, passionately. "I want to!" Her lips trembled. "There's something " "Something you want to tell him, dear?" purringly. Confusion followed boldness. Gwendolyn dropped her chin, and made reply with an inarticulate murmur. "Hm!" coughed Miss Royle.
To know that her mother and father had real and serious troubles of their own, that was another! "Oh, moth-er! Don't you go!" "Mother must tell the ladies good-by." "What touching affection!" It was the elder of the visiting pair. Miss Royle assented with a simper. "Will you come back?" urged Gwendolyn, dropping her voice. "Oh, I want to see you" darting a look sidewise "all by myself."
Then another bend of the staircase hid his upturned face. Gwendolyn was lying on her back in the middle of the nursery floor. The skein of her flaxen hair streamed about her shoulders in tangles. Her head being unpillowed, her face was pink and pink, too, with wrath. Her blue-and-white frock was crumpled. She was kicking the rug with both heels. It was noon. And Miss Royle was having her dinner.
Beside it, waiting with an impressive air, was Miss Royle. "I think we must go, Louise." "Oh, we must," quickly. "Dear me! I'd almost forgot! We've promised to lunch with one or two people down-town." "I wish you were lunching here," said Gwendolyn's mother. She freed herself gently from the clinging arms and followed the two. "Miss Royle, will you take Gwendolyn?"
She did not have to dread the coming of Jane, or Miss Royle, or Thomas. Yet she felt concern on the score of keeping beside him; of having ready a remark, gay or entertaining, should he show signs of being bored. No sooner did the thought occur to her than the Bird was ready with a story.
And she ate with no appetite for all that she was eating alone alone, that is, except for Thomas, who preserved a complete and stony silence. Miss Royle had not returned. Jane had disappeared toward her room, grumbling about never having a single evening to call her own. But at seven cheer returned with the realization that Jane was not getting ready the white-and-gold bed.
"Thomas," said Miss Royle, as she folded her napkin and rustled to her feet, "you may call up the Riding School and say that Miss Gwendolyn will not ride to-day." "Yes, ma'am." "And, Jane, you may go out for the morning. I shall stay here." "Thanks," acknowledged Jane, in a tone quite unusual for her. She did not rise, however, but waited, striving to catch Thomas's eye.
Miss Royle gave Thomas a worried stare. He, in turn, fixed her with a look of alarm. So much Gwendolyn saw before she flung herself down again, sobbing aloud, but tearlessly, her cheek upon the rug. She heard Miss Royle rustle toward the school-room; heard Thomas close the door leading into the hall. There were times the nursery had seen a few when the trio found it well to let her severely alone.
And later on, I suppose, Greek and Latin?" "I've thought of Spanish and Italian." "Eventually," informed Miss Royle, with a conscious, sinuous shift from foot to foot, "Gwendolyn will have seven tongues at her command." "How chic!" Once more the gloved hand was extended to pat the pink-satin hair-bow. Gwendolyn accepted the pat stolidly. Her eyes were fixed on her mother's face.
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