“Very well,” said Robina; “then there is no use in questioning you.”
“But I am very, very unhappy, all the same,” said Vivian.
Robina looked at her longingly. “Sit down,” she said suddenly.
They had come to a wooden seat under an old oak tree. Vivian popped down at once, but Robina still stood.
“I don’t know much about school,” said Robina. “I have not been here long. I am not a specially good girl; I was often very troublesome at home, but I think I know a few things, and perhaps I learnt those things at home.”
“What are they?” asked Vivian.
“I have learned,” said Robina, “to know a good girl when I see her. There are some girls in this school who are not good.”
“Oh, yes; oh, yes!” said Vivian. She turned white, and clasped her small hands tightly together.
“And there are some girls in this school,” proceeded Robina, “who are not strong,” and she fixed her grey eyes on Vivian’s face.
“Yes,” said Vivian again, falteringly.