CHAPTER X
THE FAIRY RING
LOVEDAY, meanwhile, was having a most interesting and beautiful time, and she and Aaron had become great friends. They had some little tiffs and quarrels too, of course, but not very serious ones.
The most serious perhaps was that when they disagreed about their names, when Loveday was certainly rather unkind, and Aaron grew angry and was rude. They were both tired, and very hungry; so hungry that it seemed as though the dinner hour was delaying on purpose.
“I don’t know why people think they mustn’t eat till the clock strikes so many times,” said Loveday crossly; “I think it would be much more sensible to eat when you are hungry.”
“You’ve got to know what time dinner is to be, or you wouldn’t know when to put things on to cook. I should have thought you’d have known that,” said Aaron; and he spoke in a tone that annoyed Loveday more than anything—a kind of superior, older tone, as though he were talking to a baby.
Loveday did not reply, but sat and looked at Aaron as if in deep thought; her eyes sparkled wickedly, though. “I do think,” she said at last, speaking very slowly and distinctly, “that yours is the ugliest name I ever heard. I can’t think how any one could choose such a name!”
She was sitting on the sand, her elbow on her knee, her chin in her hand. Aaron was lying near her, flat on his back. When he heard her he sat up very straight, his face quite red with anger. Loveday was cool and calm, and spoke with a deliberate scorn that hurt him more than anything else she could have done.
His name was that of his father and grandfather, and he had been rather proud of it hitherto.
“I—I think it’s a fine name,” he stammered; “so does everybody but you; and you can’t say anything, yours is ugly enough—it’s a silly name too.”