“I have no reason not to believe you, Maggie,” said Aneta, “and I am relieved that you have spoken as you did to Merry. But now I want to say something else. I have thought of it a good deal during the holidays, and I am firmly convinced that this taking sides, or rather making parties, in a school is pernicious, especially in such a small school as ours. I am willing to give up my queendom, if you, on your part, will give yours up. I want us all to be in unity—every one of us—all striving for the good of the school and for the happiness and welfare each of the other. If you will agree to this I will myself speak to Mrs. Ward to-morrow.”
“Mrs. Ward!” said Maggie. “What has she to do with it?”
“I want to consult with her, so that she may be the queen of the school—not one girl or two girls. She is so clever, so young, so resourceful, that she will more than make up to us for the little we lose in this matter. But, of course, there is no manner of use in my resigning my queendom if you won’t resign yours.”
“I will never do it,” said Maggie—“never! Two queens 117 in the school means little or nothing at all. All it does mean is that I have special friends whom I can influence, and whom I love to influence, and you have special friends whom you love to influence. Well, go on influencing them as hard as ever you can, and I will do the same with my friends. Your cousins will belong to you. I could, I believe, have won Merry Cardew to my side, but I am not going to do so.”
“It would be very unwise of you,” said Aneta in a low tone. “Very well, Maggie,” she added after a pause, “if you won’t give up being queen in the minds of a certain number of girls, I must, of course, continue my influence on the other side. It’s a great pity, for we might all work together.”
“We never could work together,” said Maggie with passion. “It is but to talk to you, Aneta, to know how you despise and hate me.”
“I neither despise nor hate you, Maggie.”
“Well, I despise and hate you, so I suppose it comes to the same thing.”
“I am very, very sorry, Maggie. Some day, perhaps, you will know me as I really am.”
“I know you now as you really are—eaten up with pride of birth, and with no sympathy at all for girls a trifle poorer than yourself.”