Emily retained her belief that it could have been and was. But the only thing that mattered now was the fact that Aunt Ruth still believed Ilse guilty and would continue so to believe.
“Well, that’s a rotten shame,” said Ilse. “We can’t have any real chum-talks here—Mary always has such a mob in and E. B. pervades the place.”
“I’ll find out who did it yet,” said Emily darkly, “and make Aunt Ruth give in.”
On the next afternoon Evelyn Blake found Ilse and Emily in a beautiful row. At least Ilse was rowing while Emily sat with her legs crossed and a bored, haughty expression in her insolently half-shut eyes. It should have been a welcome sight to a girl who disliked the intimacies of other girls. But Evelyn Blake was not rejoiced. Ilse was quarrelling with Emily again—ergo, Ilse and Emily were on good terms once more.
“I’m so glad to see you’ve forgiven Ilse for that mean trick,” she said sweetly to Emily the next day. “Of course, it was just pure thoughtlessness on her part—I’ve always insisted on that—she never stopped to think what ridicule she was letting you in for. Poor Ilse is like that. You know I tried to stop her—I didn’t tell you this before, of course—I didn’t want to make any more trouble than there was—but I told her it was a horribly mean thing to do to a friend. I thought I had put her off. It’s sweet of you to forgive her, Emily dear. You are better-hearted than I am. I’m afraid I could never pardon any one who had made me such a laughing stock.”
“Why didn’t you slay her in her tracks?” said Ilse when she heard of it from Emily.
“I simply half-shut my eyes and looked at her like a Murray,” said Emily, “and that was more bitter than death.”
