“There’s so little to know! There’s just mother and me—and father at the other end of the world. It isn’t half so exciting as having brothers and sisters, and going to school, and having good times all together. I have envied you so!”
“Me!” cried Betty, aghast. “You envied me! How extraordinary! I’ve perfectly ached with envying you sometimes.”
“Oh, why?” asked Cynthia; and as Betty looked into her wide earnest eyes she felt of a sudden shamed and silenced. How could she acknowledge that she had envied the greater luxury, the cosy fire in the bedroom, the pink evening dress, the monopoly of attention, she who was so rich in the dear human companionship which the other lacked!
“There are drawbacks to a large family, you know,” she exclaimed. “We don’t always have good times. Sometimes we all get cross together and quarrel like cats, and then it feels as if it would be so nice and peaceful to be the only one. You have no one to quarrel with.”
“I have myself. I quarrel fearfully with myself,” said Cynthia.
She perched herself on the arm of a high chair and stared at Betty with her grave grey eyes. She wore an enamel buckle on her belt, a gold bangle encircled her wrist, her shoes, her stockings, her ribbons were all in the perfection of taste. Betty felt another twinge of envy at the sight, and wondered what in the world such a lucky person could find to quarrel about! In manner Cynthia was as simple and direct as Pam herself. A Pet she might be, but there was nothing pampered or self-satisfied for the most carping critic to discover.
“I do get so bored with myself,” she said plaintively. “My mother has stayed in England on purpose to look after me and my education, and it is always a case of ‘This would be good for Cynthia,’ ‘That would be bad for Cynthia,’ ‘What would be best for Cynthia?’—there is altogether too much Cynthia in my life, and I am sick of her. In a big family one would have so many people to think of that there would be no room for self.”
“No—o!” said Betty doubtfully. Her conscience told her that despite father and mother, and Miles and Jack, and Jill and Pamela, Betty loomed very large on her own horizon, but she was ashamed to confess the fact in so many words, and it was a relief when Mrs Vanburgh came bustling back in her quick energetic fashion.
“There!” she cried. “I’ve put in a row of safety-pins. I couldn’t spare the time to sew it up just now. It’s half-past three, and they may be arriving any moment. I’ll talk to each one as she comes in, and artlessly find out how long she can stay, then I’ll hand her over to you to be treated accordingly. Tea and cake if it’s a call, photographs and light conversation if it’s a visit. Sister Anne, Sister Anne, do you see anyone coming?”
Cynthia looked round from the window and shook her head.