“I thought it was better not to go,” Maria replied.  Her tone was at once stern and pitiful.  Evelyn noticed only her sternness.  She began to weep softly.

“There, he wanted me, too,” she said, “and of course he had to ask you, and you knew—­I think you might have, sister.”

“I thought it was better not,” repeated Maria.  “Now, dear, you had better eat your luncheon.”

“I don’t want any luncheon.”

Maria began to eat a sandwich herself.  There was an odd meekness and dejectedness in her manner.  Presently she laid the half-eaten sandwich on the table and took out her handkerchief, and shook all over with helpless and silent sobs.

Then Evelyn looked at her, her pouting expression relaxed gradually.  She looked bewildered.

“Why, what are you crying for?” she asked, in a low voice.

Maria did not answer.

Presently Evelyn rose and went over to her sister, and laid her cheek alongside hers and kissed her.

“Don’t, sister,” she whispered.  “I am sorry.  I didn’t mean to be cross.  I suppose you were right not to go, only I did want to.”  Evelyn snivelled a little.  “I know he was hurt, too,” she said.

Maria raised her head and wiped her eyes.  “I did not think it was best,” she said yet again.  Then she looked at Evelyn and tried to smile.  “Don’t worry, precious,” she said.  “Everything will come out all right.”

Evelyn gazed wonderingly at her sister’s tear-stained face.  “I don’t see what you cried for, and I don’t see why you wouldn’t go,” she said.  “The scholars will see you have been crying, and he will see, too.  I don’t see why you feel badly.  I should think I was the one to feel badly.”

“Everything will come out all right,” repeated Maria.  “Don’t worry, sister’s own darling.”

“Everybody will see that you have been crying,” said Evelyn, who was in the greatest bewilderment.  “What did make you cry, Maria?”

“Nothing, dear.  Don’t think any more about it,” said Maria rising.  She took a tumbler from the lunch-basket.  “Go and fill this with water for me, that is a dear,” she said.  “Then I will bathe my eyes.  Nobody would know that you have been crying.”

“That is because I am not so fair-skinned,” said Evelyn; “but I don’t see.”

She went out with the tumbler, shaking her head in a puzzled way.  When she returned, Maria had the luncheon all spread out on the table, and looked quite cheerful in spite of her swollen eyes.  The sisters ate together, and Evelyn was very sweet in spite of her disappointment.  She was in reality very sweet and docile before all her negatives of life, and always would be.  Her heart was always in leading-strings of love.  She looked affectionately at Maria as they ate the luncheon.

“I am so sorry I was cross,” she said.  “I suppose you thought that it would look particular if we went out to lunch with Mr. Lee.”