'There are the—the Eves,' she said, 'two sisters, and the Beckinghams, and Miss Falmouth. She is almost too old for us.'
But the Harpers she did not name, saying to herself that her aunt had advised her not to do so. In this she deceived herself. Miss Mildmay would never have counselled her direct avoidance of mention of the two girls whom Frances—and she herself in her heart—thought the most highly of among their companions.
Lady Myrtle caught at the last name.
'Falmouth,' she repeated. 'Yes, it must have been of her I heard. I know her aunt. Very nice people.'
Then she went on to talk a little of Jacinth's own special tastes and studies, to ask what news the girls had last had from India, how often they wrote, and so on, to all of which Jacinth replied with her usual simple directness, for she felt perfectly at ease with her hostess. And the little reminiscences and allusions to the long-ago days when all the young interests of Jacinth Moreland and Myrtle Harper were shared together, with which the old lady's talk was so interspersed, in no way bored or wearied this girl of to-day, as it might have done some of her contemporaries. On the contrary, such allusions made Jacinth feel more on a level with her companion, and flattered her by showing her the confidence with which she was regarded.
'I don't suppose she would speak of those past times to any one but me,' thought Jacinth proudly. 'Except, of course, perhaps to mamma.'
