“I know very little,” replied Maggie; “and as to having seen the world, that is to come. I am quite young, you know—only just sixteen.”
“But Isabel and Molly told me that you knew more than any other girl of their acquaintance.”
Maggie gave a cheerful laugh, and said, “You mustn’t mind what they say, poor darlings! The fact is, they’re fond of me, and they magnify my knowledge; but in reality it doesn’t exist. Only, I must tell you, Miss Cardew, I mean to see everything, and to know everything. I mean to have a glorious future.”
The enthusiasm in the charming voice was also seen, to shine through those queer, narrow eyes. Merry felt her heart beat. “I am going to tell you something in return,” she said, speaking, for a wonder, without diffidence, for she was naturally very shy and retiring. “I wish with all my heart that I could live a glorious life such as you describe.”
“And surely you can?” said Maggie.
“No, I must be satisfied with a very quiet life. But we won’t talk of it now. I am really very happy. I should consider myself a most wicked, discontented girl were I anything else. And, please, may I take you to see mother?”
Merry brought up her new friend to introduce her to Mrs. Cardew, who for the first moment, remembering what Lady Lysle had said, was a trifle stiff to Maggie Howland, but two minutes afterward was chatting to her in a pleasant and very friendly manner. She even went the length of personally introducing Maggie to Lady Lysle, excusing herself for the act by saying that Lady Lysle knew her mother.
Maggie also succeeded in charming Lady Lysle, who said to Mrs. Cardew afterward, “I am glad you have introduced the girl to me. She is not in the least like her commonplace, affected mother. She seems a very good sort, and I like plain girls.”
“But is she plain?” said Mrs. Cardew in some astonishment. “Do you know, I never noticed it.” 20
Lady Lysle laughed. “You never noticed how remarkably plain that girl is, my dear friend?” she said.