Marjorie's round good-humored freckled face wore an expression of consternation.
"I made some slippers during the term for you," she said. "They're large, and I wadded them so that they are most comfortable. But--it isn't that--the slippers are in your room, I put them there--Ermie, won't you get out?"
"No," said Ermengarde. "I'm going to drive down to the house."
Marjorie frowned more than ever.
"They are all coming up from the shore; Miss Nelson, and all of them; and they'll see the horses and they'll run. Even Miss Nelson will run, she's so fond of Basil, and----"
Mr. Wilton, who still remained in the carriage by Ermengarde's side, now interposed.
"We won't wait for the small fry," he said. "We'll drive on to the house at once. Oh, yes, Eric, you can go to meet the party from the shore of course, if you like, and Basil too."
"I'll stay with Ermie," said Basil.
He jumped into the carriage again, and they drove down the long winding avenue to th
Ermentrude Wilton, the rebellious, 14-year-old, eldest daughter of a large, well-to-do but motherless family, learns about the tangled web of deceit. She's not very likable, though, and we don't really care.