“Mamma,” she said, “I think you had better not ask me. You know I would tell you and Jerry more than anybody—but—I want to be good, and I can’t, and—perhaps there are some bad feelings that it’s best not to speak about.”
Jerry looked up with fullest sympathy in his thin white face.
“I don’t know,” said Mrs Waldron. “I can’t judge unless you tell me a little. Is it about that young girl, Charlotte? Has she come?”
“Yes; she was there all day.”
“Well, is she disagreeable? Does she interfere with you in any way?”
“In every way, mamma. At least I feel sure it is going to be in every way. She’s—she’s to be in my class for everything. She’s—it’s no good hiding the truth—she’s awfully clever and far on, and ahead of us all.”
Mrs Waldron’s face looked grave. She felt such sympathy with Charlotte that she was almost shocked at herself. She was only human! She had hoped that her child might be spared the special rivalry which she knew would touch her the most acutely.
“Are you not fanciful, dear? How can you possibly be sure in one day that Miss—what is her name?”
“Meredon, mamma. Claudia Meredon—isn’t it a lovely name?” said Charlotte with a rather curious smile. “Even her name is uncommon and beautiful.” Mrs Waldron could not help laughing.
“You are going too far, my dear child. I am sure your own name is quite nice enough. You have no reason to be ashamed of it.”