"Shall we go to the big playground first? I have not half seen it."
"We'll go there, if you like; but I don't care for hockey, lacrosse, nor any of those mannish games. My father is old-fashioned; he likes me to be thoroughly educated, but he always says, 'Be feminine before all things, Matilda.' I think hockey, and cricket, and cycling so very unfeminine, don't you?"
"Not at all," replied Cecil. "Of course, taken in excess, they may be bad; but, really," she added, "I have not studied the subject."
"Nor have I—not seriously. I hate discussing all those women's questions; we're always having them in our debating society. After all, what is the use? I, for one, mean to marry well. My idea is to marry a man twice my own age, because he will make a pet of me. I'd rather be an old man's darling, than a young man's slave; wouldn't you, Cecil?"
"I don't intend to be either," replied Cecil.
"Do you mind my leaning on you?" asked Matilda. "I'm quite certain we'll be chums. I like your face; you don't know how I admire independent sort of girls like you. How fast you walk! It quite blows me to walk as fast as that. Ah, that's better, let me catch on to your arm; you don't mind, do you?"
If Cecil had spoken the truth, she would have said, "I mind intensely." As it was, she made no response. Matilda took silence for consent. One or two of the St. Dorothy girls passed them, and stared when they saw who Cecil Ross' companion was.
"What conceited creatures those schoolgirls are!" said Matilda. "And of all the girls in the place none give themselves such airs as those who live at St. Dorothy's. Well, here we are at the playground. What do you mean to do, now we have got here, Cecil? For my part, I am not a good walker; I require plenty of rest; I have none of the muscle which characterises the modern girl."
"I should think not," thought Cecil to herself. Aloud she said:
"If you are tired, we can sit in the summerhouse."