“Not very well, perhaps,” Claudia admitted.
“You’re not nervous—you don’t mind being alone?”
“Oh, no,” said Claudia; “I have always had a room alone since I was quite a little girl.”
“Yes; but at home, in a smaller house, where you all seem nearer together, it is different. You are quite sure you are not nervous here? Don’t be afraid of saying so if you are. No one has been telling you nonsense about this house being haunted, or anything of that kind?”
A light broke over Claudia’s face, which had been growing rather bewildered-looking.
“It is very kind of you to have thought of it, Aunt Mildred,” she said. “But indeed I am not the least nervous in that way. I have not slept well partly perhaps because I have been thinking so much about my lessons. I do so want to show them at home that I am doing well, and the examinations and all that will be coming on soon.”
“Don’t overdo it,” said Lady Mildred. “Your father and mother—and I, for that matter, if you care about me in that way—will be perfectly satisfied that you have done your best, without any prizes or things of that kind.”
“There is only one prize given at Christmas,” said Claudia, “and that is a German one that the master gives himself. I do dreadfully want to get it. Mamma is so anxious about my German.”
“Well, don’t overwork yourself, my dear. It would be very unlucky if you were to fall ill here—you that have always been so strong. It would reflect badly on me, or on Silverthorns, if you lost your rosy cheeks here. And to some of those girls, doubtless, prizes must seem matters of life or death—many of them probably are training for governesses.”
“Some perhaps may be,” said Claudia; “but I think many of them, particularly some of the least refined, are very rich. And I don’t think any of them can wish for this prize more than I do. Think what it would be to send it home! But, Aunt Mildred,” she went on in a different tone, “as you see I’m not nervous, I wish you would tell me more about the ghost.”