Yes, as Pearl feared, Antonia was lying on her bed, crumpled as to clothes and damp about the cheeks. Miss Exeter could see now, she said; she was treated like a step-child. Her mother didn't love her as she loved Dolly, and how could anyone love Dolly?--that's what she couldn't understand.
Pearl had not thought it worth while to try to argue Antonia's case with Dolly, but the child was so clear-minded she did try to put Dolly's side of the case to her. Antonia admitted it all, but impatiently.
"And why is he willing to come," she said--"a man like him? He's just making a convenience of Dolly, or something. He doesn't think anything about her at all."
It was exactly Pearl's own impression. Then why was he coming?
He came on Friday afternoon by the fast train, and Dolly in her new pink hat and her white motoring coat--just back from the cleaner and smelling a little bit of gasoline, but so much more becoming than her gray one--went to meet him. She and Allen and Mrs. Conway were all dining out that evening, and Pearl had organized a picnic for herself and Antonia and Durland, far up the beach, with the moon and a fire of driftwood and a great deal of excellent food. They did not see the house guest that evening.
The next morning at half past nine Pearl was obliged to go to the garage to find Antonia; she was studying the oiling system