“How stupid of me!” said Merry, speaking with some warmth. “Of course, I quite forgot that she is at Mrs. Ward’s school. She is older than you, isn’t she, Maggie?”
“Yes, a year older, as days are counted; but she appears even more than her age, which is just seventeen. Don’t you think her very beautiful, Merry?”
“Now that I recall her, I do; but she never made a special impression on me. She never stayed here long enough.”
“Nevertheless, she is a sort of cousin of yours?”
“Yes, Lady Lysle is mother’s cousin; but then one doesn’t love all one’s relations,” said Merry carelessly. “Have another piece of cake, Maggie.”
“Thanks,” said Maggie, helping herself. “How delicious it is!”
“And put some more cream over your raspberries. The raspberries at Meredith Manor are celebrated.”
Maggie helped herself to some more cream. “I do wish” she said suddenly.
“That I would go on telling you about the pictures?” said Merry. “But you must be tired. I never knew any one take in interesting things so quickly.”
“I am glad you think I do; but it so happens that I do not want to hear about the pictures this morning. I think perhaps I am, after all, a bit tired. It is the pleasure, the delight of knowing you and your sister, and of being with those sweet girls Molly and Isabel.”