“I know.”
“You will, I am sure, Dumps, do your utmost to attend to your studies. You will soon be sixteen; my intention is that you should remain at the French school for two years, and then come back in time to enjoy some of the pleasures of life—some of the pleasures, dear, as well as the responsibilities, for we never can dissever one from the other.”
I was silent. Why did I like her and yet dislike her? I had thought the day before when Hermione spoke of school that I should wildly rebel, but as I sat there looking at her placid face it did not occur to me to rebel. I said after a minute, “Step-mother, until I love you better, may I call you by that name?”
“I have given you leave,” she said in a low tone.
“I have something to confess,” I said.
“What is that?” she asked.
“I did not buy any thing useful out of the ten pounds you gave me.”
“Your father’s dress allowance?”
“You know it was yours.”
“Your father’s,” she repeated.