'It is so strange,' she said. 'I'll tell you why it has made me feel so queer. Mine is a sort of a secret, Frances; at least when we came here to school mother told us not to talk about it. But I know I can trust you, and what you've told me makes it seem as if somehow—I don't know how to say what I mean—as if we must be a sort of relation to each other, from our people long ago having been such friends. For, do you know, Frances, Lady Myrtle Goodacre is our aunt—our great-aunt, that is to say—father's own aunt?'
Frances stopped short and almost clapped her hands.
'There now,' she said, 'I had a feeling there was something like that. I wish Jacinth hadn't stopped my speaking of you, when Lady Myrtle told us her name used to be Harper.'
'Were you going to speak of us?' asked Margaret.
'Yes, it was on the very tip of my tongue. Indeed I believe I did get as far as "There are some," when Jacinth stopped me. She said afterwards that it is "common," when any one mentions a name, to say immediately, "Oh, I know somebody called that." I don't quite see why it should be common; it's rather interesting, I think. Still I daresay it's true that common people often do speak like that, when you come to think of it. They've always got an aunt, or a cousin, or a friend's friend called so-and-so, or living somewhere, if you mention a place.'
'I daresay they do,' said Margaret; but she seemed to be giving only half her attention. 'Frances,' she went on, 'I wonder what would have happened if you had spoken of us? I wonder if Lady Myrtle would have taken any notice?'
Frances stared.
'Of course she would!' she exclaimed. 'Do you mean to say she wouldn't have taken any notice of hearing that her own grand-nieces were so near her? Why, she'——But suddenly the actual state of the case struck her. 'Do you—does she not know you're here?' she went on, raising her blue eyes in bewilderment to Margaret's face. 'No, I suppose she doesn't, or of course you would be asked to Robin Redbreast on holidays and all that sort of thing.'
'No,' Margaret replied, 'she doesn't know anything about us. I'm not even sure that she knows of our existence; anyway she has never heard our names, or how many of us there are, and I can't believe she really understands how—how very poor we are. For she is very, very rich, you know, Frances, though she lives in that quiet way.'
'Is she?' said Frances. 'I do wish I had spoken of you, whether it was "common" or not.'