“I won’t name them,” said Robina; “but I will only just say this: that if I were a weak girl in the school, I’d just make up my mind that I was. I would not pretend that I was strong, for instance, and I’d go and tell anything that made me unhappy to the person who ought to know.”
“Oh, but you wouldn’t, if you were me,” said Vivian, suddenly speaking in great excitement.
“Does the cap fit?” asked Robina.
“Yes, yes,” answered Vivian; “it fits. But I can’t, I can’t!”
“I haven’t the least idea what is the matter,” said Robina; “but you are unhappy, for you have said so, and you are weak, not strong, for you admit it and, anyhow, I know. Now, being weak in a school like this, where there are some girls who are not good, you have no chance at all, unless you go to someone stronger than yourself to help you.”
“Who ought I to go to?” asked Vivian, trembling very much.
“You ought to go to some of your teachers.”
“Oh, I can’t do that—it would be quite too dreadful; you don’t know what they would say of me.”
“That is what you ought to do,” said Robina; “but if you haven’t courage for that, you ought to go to one of your school-fellows. You have your two sisters.”
“They are no good at all; they are not, really.” Robina was silent for a minute. Then she said:—