When Mrs. Freeman told Bridget to go away and leave her, the Irish girl stopped playing with the tendrils of hair on Evelyn's forehead, and looked at her governess with a blank expression stealing over her face.
"What is it, my dear?" The head mistress drew herself slightly up, and looked in some surprise at her pupil.
"Poor girl!" said Evelyn, a wistful expression coming into her eyes.
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"I think, my dear, we won't talk quite so much," said Mrs. Freeman. "At most of our meals German is the only language spoken. Supper, of course, is an exception. Why, what is the matter. Miss O'Hara?""No, no—do forgive me!"
"No, it was that wild Irish girl's doing. I really don't know what to do with her."
"You know perfectly well what I mean," she answered; "you know who the enemy is—at least you know who is your enemy."
What could it all mean? It really was most exciting.
"Much I cared for that when I had a chance of seeing her," remarked Violet. "I did get a splendid peep. She's awfully tall, and she was splendidly dressed; and O Dolly! O Ruthie! O Janey! she's just lovely!"