“Maria had better come here,” observed Hester, quickly; “and then some one else besides Margaret may have the benefit of her conversation. She seems to forget that anybody cares for her besides Margaret. Tell Miss Young she had better fix an evening to come here.”
“I do not think she will do that,” said both the little girls.
“Why not?”
“She is very lame now,” replied Mary, “and she cannot walk further than just to school and back again.”
“And, besides,” remarked Fanny, “she wants to talk with cousin Margaret alone, I am sure. They have such a great deal of talk to do whenever they are together! We watch them sometimes in the schoolroom, through the window, when we are at play in the garden; and their heads nod at one another in this way. I believe they never leave off for a minute. We often wonder what it can be all about.”
“Ah, my dears, you and I had better not ask,” said Hester. “I have no doubt it is better that we should not know.”
Margaret looked beseechingly at her sister. Hester replied to her look:
“I mean what I say, Margaret. You cannot but be aware how much more you have to communicate to Maria than to me. Our conversation soon comes to a stand: and I must say I have had much occasion to admire your great talent for silence of late. Maria has still to learn your accomplishments in that direction, I fancy.”
Margaret quietly told the little girls that she would write a note to Maria, with her answer.
“You must not do that,” said Fanny. “Miss Young said you must not. That was the reason why she sent you a message instead of a note—that you might not have to write back again, when a message would do as well.”