Punishment has many degrees, and the sense of humiliation which Ermengarde felt, when that morning she had been left prisoner in Miss Nelson"s sitting-room, was nothing indeed to the agony which she endured when, supposed to be free and pardoned, she walked with her governess to the hay-field.
Every moment she expected to hear Susy"s piercing yells following her.
Susy was a child with little or no self-control. She hated dark rooms; her imagination was unhealthy, and fostered in her home life in the worst possible way. Ermengarde knew that she could hear Miss Nelson"s conversation, and every moment she expected her voice to arise within the cupboard in protest.
When no sound came, however, a dreadful idea took possession of poor Ermie"s brain. The cupboard was not large; suppose Susy had been suffocated. This terror became so insupportable that several times the miserable child was on the point of confessing all. What kept her back from doing this was the thought of Basil. While the ghost of a chance remained she must avert the possibility of Basil looking down on her. For Basil to despise her would have been the bitterest cup which life at present could hold out to poor Ermengarde.
Miss Nelson and her pupil reached the hay-field, and then ensued a scamper, a rush. Marjorie, Eric, Basil, Lucy, all crowded round their sister. They were unfeignedly delighted to have her with them, and Ermie could not but reflect how happy she would now be but for Susy.
"We are going to have such a time," said Marjorie. "After tea we are going to build a hayrick, quite in a new way. It"s to be hollow inside, like a room, and pointed at the top, with a hole to let the air in, and--why, what"s the matter, Ermie? You look as white as anything. We thought you"d be so fresh, for you have done nothing all day. Now, I am tired, if you like. Oh, haven"t I run?"
Marjorie stopped talking to mop her heated forehead.
"But it was glorious fun," she began, the next minute. "I thought Eric would have capsized the boat, he laughed so. Only Basil was a bit mopy. He"s not half himself when you"re away, Ermie, Now, hadn"t you better sit down? You do look white."
Ermengarde glanced round her. At that moment she and Marjorie were a few feet away from the others. Basil was trotting meekly up and down with a small sister aloft on each broad shoulder. Eric was sending all the small fry whom he could reach into screams at his superabundant wit and spirits. Miss Nelson went over to help nurse to get the tea ready. For a brief moment the two sisters were alone.
In an instant Marjorie would be called. She was never long left to herself in any group. Ermie had not a second to lose. She clasped Marjorie"s hand convulsively.
"Maggie, I want you to help me."
"Of course I will, Ermie. What is it? Coming, Eric! What"s the matter, Ermie?"
"Oh, do get those children away for a minute."
"Maggie, Maggie, Maggie!" shouted several voices, headed by Eric"s.
"Coming, Eric. Keep back, all of you. I"m talking to Ermie for a minute. Now, Ermie, quick. What is it?"
"I want to go back to the house, without any one noticing. Help me to go back at once."
"How can I help you! How queer you look."
"O Maggie, it"s so important! Don"t question me. Only help me."
"Poor Ermie, you do look in a state!"
"And no one must know. Maggie, I did think you"d be clever enough to find an excuse for me. I trusted to you. Don"t fail me, Maggie."
"Let me think," said Marjorie. "You"ll come back again?"
"Yes, I won"t be gone any time."
"I"ll fly across to nurse. Stay where you are--I"ll be with you again in a minute."
Marjorie ran across the hay-field, stooped down by old nurse"s side, had a short and eager colloquy, and returned to Ermengarde.
"Ermie, nurse wants those rusks which baby always has with his tea.
She says you"ll find the box in the nursery cupboard. Will you fetch them in a hurry? Baby is so hungry."
"Oh, what nonsense!" said Basil, who had now come up. "The idea of sending Ermie! Where"s the nursemaid?"
"Alice went to the house with another message. You had better go, Ermengarde; nurse is in a hurry."
"I don"t mind going a bit," said Ermengarde. She looked ready to fly.
Her lips were trembling.
"You look as tired as anything now, Ermie," said Basil. "I"ll go, if it comes to that. Where are those wretched rusks to be found, Maggie?"
"You can"t go, Basil. You are to light the fire for the gypsy tea."
"It"s lighting."
"Well, it"s going out again. I know it is; or the kettle is sure to boil over, or something. Do be on the spot, and let Ermie make herself useful for once in a way."
Ermengarde ran off; the tension of her feelings would permit of no further delay. She heard Basil scolding Marjorie as she hurried across the hay-field. Ermengarde had never run so fast in her life. What should she find when she got back to that sitting-room. Would Susy be dead? If so----But her terrified thoughts would take her no further.
She was not a particularly active little girl, and her quick running soon deprived her of breath. Oh, what a distance lay between that hay-field and the house! At last the lawn was gained, then the gravel sweep, then the side-door. She could only totter upstairs, and by the time she reached Miss Nelson"s room she was really almost fainting.
She managed to stagger across to the cupboard, unlocked it, and then sank down in a chair. Susy instantly made her appearance; she was not dead, but she was extremely red in the face and very angry.
"You did serve me a trick, Miss Ermie! Oh, my word, I didn"t think as you"d treat me as bad as that! Why, I might have been--I thought I was to be suffocated, miss."
"Never mind now," said Ermengarde. "I"m ever so sorry; I----" Her voice faltered. In her relief and thankfulness at finding Susy alive and well, she went up to the little girl and kissed her. Then she burst into tears.
"Miss Ermie!"
If Susan Collins was fond of anyone, it was Ermengarde.
"Don"t you take on, miss," she said affectionately.
Ermie"s tears touched her so much that she felt she would have endured another half-hour of the cupboard to help her.
"Don"t cry, please, Miss Ermie," said Susy. "I know you couldn"t help yourself. I didn"t want you to have a scolding; no, that I didn"t; so it"s all right, miss; I"m none the worse. I was a bit choky in the cupboard, but I"m as well as ever now."
Ermengarde soon dried her tears.
"I must go back to the hay-field at once," she said, "I"ll leave you now, Susy. Don"t be long here. Run downstairs while there"s no one about. Good-by, Susy. I"m glad you are not hurt."
Ermengarde nodded to Susan Collins, and with a light heart left the room. She went to the nursery, secured the baby"s rusks, and returned to the hay-field.
During the rest of that evening no one seemed happier, or laughed more often than Ermengarde. She thought herself safe, and it never occurred to her as possible that the doings of that day could ever be known.
CHAPTER VI.