“Yes,” I said, somewhat startled.
“Then perhaps when we kneel together at the Great Festival, the feast of all feasts, your heart may be softened, and you may see that in all the world no one means more kindly to you than the one whom you used to know as Grace Donnithorne.”
“Oh, if you wouldn’t be quite so amiable I think I could love you better,” I said, and then I really hated myself.
“It will come, dear,” she said in a patient tone. “And now, just tell me what you bought. If your father isn’t interested in brown-paper parcels, I am.”
“They’re presents,” I said shortly.
“Those delightful things on the sofa are presents? You have spent a little of your money on presents? Rather extravagant of you, but I’m not going to scold.”
“That sounded such a lot of money,” I said, “but it didn’t turn out so much.”
“What do you mean, dear? It is a very substantial sum for a young schoolgirl of your age. I am sorry you did not take me with you to spend it; but you seemed so anxious to go alone, and I thought until Christmas was over—”
“What is going to happen when Christmas is over?” I said.
“I will tell you when the time comes.”