"I believe Andrew hath a hankering after those same colonies in his secret soul," said Betty. "You will find yourself transplanted thither some time or other, Agnes."
Again I felt annoyed. I did not know why.
"Do not call me Agnes; call me Vevette," said I. "That is the name I have always been used to."
"But Agnes is so much prettier. Vevette is like a nickname," objected Betty.
"It is a sort of pet name, I suppose—short for Genevieve," remarked Margaret. "If Vevette likes it best, she certainly has a right to choose."
"But it is French," objected Betty again, "and she is an English girl now. I am quite sure mother would prefer to have her called Agnes, and Andrew too; wouldn't you, Andrew?"
"I should prefer that she should have her own way in the matter," answered Andrew shortly, and there the discussion ended for the time; but we were no sooner in the house than Betty began it again, appealing to her mother to say if it would not be much better for me to be called by my English name now I was come to live in England.
"That is for her mother to say," replied Aunt Amy. "I presume she will prefer to call her by the name she has been used to."
"I certainly shall prefer to do so, and to have others do so," said my mother. "The name of Agnes was never a favorite of mine."
Betty said no more, but she never lost an opportunity of calling me Agnes, till I took to calling her Elizabeth, to which name she had a special aversion.