“Little you know, Merry, how impossible school-life would be without parties, and great friends, and medium friends, and favorites, and enemies. Why, Merry, school is a little world, and the world is made up of elements such as these.”
“Tell me,” said Merry after a pause, “what you did after you left us.”
Maggie colored. “Oh, stayed for a time in that horrid Shepherd’s Bush.”
“In those fusty, musty lodgings?” said Merry. 112
“Yes, and they were fusty, musty.”
“Oh dear! I am sorry for you. We had such a glorious time!”
“I know it, dear; but glorious times don’t come to girls like me.”
“Why, are you so very, very sad, Maggie? Oh, now I know—of course I know. I didn’t like to write to you about it, for it seemed to me quite—you will forgive me, won’t you?—quite dreadful that your mother should have married again. Is she married yet, Maggie?”
Maggie nodded.
“Oh, I can sympathize with you, dear Maggie! It must be so fearful to have a stepfather!”