May would have
long ago bought a bicycle had she been able to afford it. Straying about
the main streets of the town, she looked flushed and wrathful, and could
think of nothing but her humiliation.
To make things worse, she lost count of time, and presently found that she
had missed the only train by which she could return home. A cab would be
too much of an expense; she had no choice but to walk the three or four
miles. The evening was close; walking rapidly, and with the accompaniment
of vexatious thoughts, she reached the gates of the Hall tired perspiring,
irritated. Just as her hand was on the gate a bicycle-bell trilled
vigorously behind her, and, from a distance of twenty yards, a voice cried
imperatively--
'Open the gate, please!'
Miss Rockett looked round, and saw Hilda Shale slowly wheeling forward, in
expectation that way would be made for her. Deliberately May passed through
the side entrance, and let the little gate fall to.
Miss Shale dismounted, admitted herself, and spoke to May (now at the lodge
door) with angry emphasis.
'Didn't you hear me ask you to open?'
'I couldn't imagine you were speaking to _me_,' answered Miss Rockett, with
brisk dignity.
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