Maria hesitated.
The dwarf looked across at her maid. “She will not understand anything you say,” she remarked. “She is well trained. She can hear without hearing—that is her great accomplishment.”
Still Maria said nothing.
“You got on at Amity,” said the dwarf. “Is that where you live?”
“Yes.”
“What is your name?”
Maria closed her mouth firmly.
The dwarf laughed. “Oh, very well,” said she. “If you do not choose to tell it, I can. Your name is Ackley—Elizabeth Ackley. I am glad to meet you, Miss Ackley.”
Maria paled a little, but she said nothing to disapprove this extraordinary statement.
“My name is Blair—Miss Rosa Blair,” said the dwarf. “I am a rose, but I happened to bloom outside the pale.” She laughed gayly, but Maria's eyes upon her were pitiful. “You are also outside the pale in some way,” said Miss Blair. “I always know such people when I meet them. There is an affinity between them and myself. The moment I saw you I said to myself: she also is outside the pale, she also has escaped from the garden of life. Well, never mind, child; it is not so very bad outside when one becomes accustomed to it. I am. Perhaps you have not had time; but you will have. What is the matter?”