“Do you know who I am?” she demanded of the surprised Jennie.
“Why—what do you mean? Of course you are Nancy Nelson.”
“I don’t even know if I have a right to that name.”
“Mercy!”
“It’s the only name I know. It seems to be the only name anybody who knows about me, knows.”
“Then it’s yours.”
“How do I know that?” queried Nancy, bitterly. “I’m just a little Miss Nobody.”
“Goodness me! but that does sound romantic,” whispered Jennie.
“Romantic!” cried Nancy, with scorn. “It’s nothing of the kind. You’re as bad as Scorch.”
“As bad as who?”