Miss Marsden made up her mind to set her talking; and, in a ladylike yet determined manner, she was soon dragging from the unsuspecting Nina various particulars with regard to her past life.
The country girl was no match for the city girl, and speedily fell into the trap, not of direct questions, but of responding to roundabout and apparently aimless remarks.
“I didn’t say Captain Fordyce was thirty-eight,” she observed, after a time, in surprised vexation.
Miss Marsden had found out all she wished to know, so she said, with a superior air, “No, child, but what was the use of the dates you mentioned if I did not put them together? I was always good at arithmetic at school.”
“So was I,” retorted Nina; “but I can’t make out how old you are.”
“You never will. If you notice, I carefully avoid figures in my conversation. It will be a good rule for you to follow ten years hence.”
“Then you are ten years older than I am,” said Nina, pouncing upon her recommendation.
“Not quite, pussy-cat,” said the young lady; “but I won’t tease you any more with questions, for now you have found me out, and will settle down into New England obstinacy. What kind of passengers have we? Who are the most interesting ones?”
Nina’s eyes sparkled. “A little wee mousie and a big British lion.”
“Sir Hervey and Lady Forrest,” said Miss Marsden, coupling this information with some obtained from Marie.