She was almost startled at her own frankness. She had never talked like this to any one before.
"You know I am not going to take you at your own valuation. Let me judge for myself," and Mona opened her book at the first page and held it out.
Matilda put her hands up to her face. "Don't!" she said. "I couldn't bear to let you see how little I know. But I will try to learn. I will begin Bilderbuch this very night, though I hate it as much as I do Lycidas and Hamlet, and everything else I read at school."
Mona shivered involuntarily. "Don't read anything you are sick of," she said. "If you like, I will lend you an interesting story that will tempt you on in spite of yourself."
"Thanks awfully. You are very kind."
"I shall be very glad to help you if you get into a real difficulty." Mona paused. "As I said before, I have no right to exact a promise from you—but I can't tell you how much more highly I should think of you if you did worry on to the end."
The conclusion of this sentence took Matilda by surprise. She had imagined that Mona was going back to the subject of the drawing-master, but Mona seemed to have forgotten the existence of everything but German books.
"And may I come here sometimes in the afternoon, and talk to you? I often see you go down to the beach."
"I never know beforehand when I shall be able to come; but, if you care to take the chance, I shall always be glad to see you."
"The new Adam will," she said to herself, with a half-amused, half-rueful smile, when her visitor had gone, "but the old Adam will have a tussle for his rights."