Aunt Sophia left the room. She came back presently with a dainty jelly and some home-made biscuits. She put an extra pillow at Pauline’s back, and placed the little tray containing the tempting food in front of her.
“What are you thinking about, Paulie?” she asked suddenly.
“About how nice you are,” answered the child; and then she added, “I don’t want you to be nice.”
“Why so?”
“Because I don’t. I can’t tell you more than just I don’t.”
Miss Tredgold said nothing more. She resumed her work, and Pauline ate her jelly.
“Aunt Sophy,” she said presently, “I want to be awfully good at my lessons next week. I want to learn real desperate hard. I want to turn into a very clever girl. You’d like me to be clever, wouldn’t you?”
“Provided you are not conceited with it,” said Aunt Sophia in her abrupt way.
“Perhaps I should be,” said Pauline. “I was always thought rather smart. I like people to call me smart. You don’t want me to turn stupid because I may get conceited.”
“No, dear; I want you to be natural. I want you to try very hard to be learned, to be good, to be a lady. I want you to be the sort of woman your mother would have wished you to be had she lived. I want you to grow up strong in mind and strong in body. I want you to be unselfish. I want you to look upon life as a great gift which you must not abuse, which you must make use of. I want you, Paulie, and your sisters to be the best in every sense of that great word. You will fail. We all fail at times; but there is forgiveness for each failure if you go to the right and only source. Have I said enough?”