She opened the door, and as she did so she seemed to bring in with her a gust of the fresh breezy autumn air. The lady who was reading by the fire, or possibly dozing, for the light was growing faint, started and shivered.
“Claudia,” she exclaimed, “for any sake, shut the door. How can you be so inconsiderate?”
Miss Meredon closed the door gently and came forward.
“Oh, Aunt Mildred, forgive me; I am so sorry,” she replied in her bright eager voice. “I was in such a hurry to tell you how capitally I have got on. I have been so happy. The school is delightful. And, aunt, only fancy—won’t mamma and all of them be pleased? The German master did so praise me! I am to be in the highest class, and—and—he said it would do the others good to have me with them. It’s not for myself I am so pleased—it’s for papa and mamma. And to think that I never had German lessons from any one but mamma.”
She ran on so eagerly that it would have been almost impossible to stop her. And when she at last came to a halt, out of breath, Lady Mildred did not at once speak. When she did her words were more chilling than silence.
“I do wish you were less impulsive and excitable, Claudia,” she said. “Of course I am pleased that you should take a good place, and all that; but I think it rather injudicious of the teachers to have begun praising you up so the first day. They would not have done so had you not been my niece. It is just what I was afraid of.”
“Aunt Mildred, I assure you the German master knew nothing about who I was. And I feel sure he wouldn’t have cared if he had known. And it was more he than any one. Miss Lloyd is nice, but—she isn’t at all gushing. She just told me quietly that so far as she could judge I should be in the highest classes, and—and that it was plain I had been very well taught.”
Lady Mildred looked up sharply.
“You did not—I hope,” she said, “you did not think it necessary to enlighten them as to who had been your teachers?”
“No,” said Claudia, “I did not, because you had told me not to do so. I don’t know in any case that I should have done so, aunt, for though you say I am so childish, I don’t feel inclined to tell everything to people I don’t know. Indeed I am not so silly, only—I couldn’t help running to tell you, just—just as I would have done to mamma,” and Claudia’s voice quivered a little.