“Foolish, foolish one,” said Elise, “That is what no one likes. Besides, it is what you call rude not to speak the name. Most rude!” She saw a frown deepen on Lucy’s brow and gently pressed her hand.
“You wanted to tell me, did you not?” she said softly. “Now I want to tell you what I have not so many times told because I cannot speak of it unless my heart feels like it does bleed. I have had such sorrows, and have seen such dreadfulness; I have been so cold, and hongry, and frightened. I have lived in the wet underground for so long time that all this makes a differentness in me from you. Something in me feels most old and weary. I keep it shut up because my darling Maman Hargrave wants me a happy child, and I want it for myself, but I do feel the oldness when I see others unhappy when they could so easily be full of joy. No, let me talk!” she added, as Lucy tried to speak.
“I must say this, I feel it on me, to save that poor lady her happiness. I shall be sorry for you some other day, but now I am most sad for her. When she marry your papa, she think all the time that she is going to have a most sweet daughter because that is how your dear papa would tell her of you, and then what happens? You know.
“Oh, Lucee, dear, dear Lucee, there is one thing you must give to her, right now today quick.”
“What is that?” said Lucy, startled by Elise’s vehemence.
“LOVE!” cried Elise, her sweet voice thrilling. “Love! So easy, so sweet! Please, my Lucee, do not turn away. I know I am right on account of the oldness in my heart. That tells me. Think how most glad your own mother is to have the pretty one taking such good care of your papa and of you. Does she select your clothes?”
“Yes,” said Lucy.
“They are always the prettiest,” said Elise. “No other girl is so chic—what you call stunning. And so modest, so quiet. And you yourself say everyone but you loves her. You too must love her, and the best of all. You must! You are a Scout, and so you do always the right thing. Where is she now?”
“Home, I suppose. I came down to bring some of my last winter’s dresses. Oh, Elise, even if I could, it is too late. I can’t go back to the beginning again and start over.”