Marigold blushed a rosier red, this time with pleasure, for Aunt Pamela's words of praise were rare.
"You are writing to your mother, I suppose?"
"Yes, Aunt Pamela."
"You get on with your schoolfellows better than you used, do you not, Marigold?"
"Oh yes!"
"Mary has been telling me that you had something to put up with from them at first—she mentioned one girl in particular, Muriel Wake, I think, who made herself extremely objectionable."
"I find that is Muriel's way," Marigold explained. "I see now how silly I was to think so much about what she said. The girls do not care for her, and, indeed; I think she would be very unpopular if she were not so rich."
"Ah! Is she so very rich, then?"
"Yes, I believe so. The girls say she will be a great heiress one day. She leaves me alone now, but I know she dislikes me, though I can't think why. The girl I like best in the whole school is Grace Long. Oh, by the bye, Aunt Pamela, Barker says she is going to have tea with her old mother next Saturday afternoon, and if you and Aunt Mary will give your permission, she will take me with her."
"Good gracious, child! Why does Barker want your company?"