"Is not your name Beecham?" said this lady with a shade of annoyance in her voice.
Meg shook her head in the negative; then suddenly remembering the warning she had received not to forget:
"Yes—Beecham—that's my name," she said hurriedly, with the vivid nod that usually accompanied her assertions.
A titter went round the table.
"Hush!" said Miss Grantley severely.
Meg sat stiff and upright.
"Will you have milk or cocoa?" repeated Miss Grantley.
"Cocoa," blurted out Meg with monosyllabic brevity, in her confusion forgetting her manners.
She was intensely aware of the nudgings going on around her; of subdued fits of laughter shaking some of the young ladies; of the surprised stare of others. She caught Miss Grantley's cold glance.