"I don't see anything ridiculous in the idea," I said. "But I suppose there is one little difficulty in the way. You see, Pet, my name is Constance Conway, so 'Connie' is my Christian name."
Pet was covered with confusion, and had nothing more to say. I thought Miss Millington's protecting embrace unnecessary and affected.
"I say, why not 'Miss Con'?" asked Denham.
Two or three voices repeated "Miss Con!" in doubtful tones; and Denham defended the abbreviation as being "less of a jaw-breaker" than my full cognomen. I should not have thought the absence of one syllable so highly important, but when appealed to, I acquiesced, and Denham clenched the matter by an immediate, "I say, Miss Con; just give me half-a-cup more tea, please."
So that I suppose is to be my new title.
In very good time for dinner, I donned my one handsome black silk, which not only fits well and looks well, but also gives me an appearance of being a good deal older than my real age, no small advantage under present circumstances. It is trimmed with jet beads, and I wore jet ornaments to correspond.
Nearly twenty minutes before seven, finding myself ready, I went downstairs. As I reached the lowest step, Maggie came out of the study, followed by two ladies, one middle-aged, the other young. They were well-cloaked, and evidently had just come in from out-of-doors. None of the three happened to be looking in my direction.
"I dare say we shall like her pretty well," Maggie was saying aloud. "One can't tell yet, of course. But nobody can be the same as dear old Jackie to us. And she does seem so stiff and cold, after—"
This would never do. "Maggie, I don't think you know that I am here!" I said hastily.
The next instant I wished that I had made Maggie aware of my presence, without seeming to suppose that her words bore reference to myself. But the regret came too late. Maggie started, and her peach-bloom grew brilliant.