“I suppose,” I said, rather disagreeably—“I suppose Lady Honor made fun of my baby name?”
Miss Whyte looked puzzled and surprised.
“Made fun of it,” she said; “of course not. We all thought it so sweet—‘Sweet Content,’ I mean—and what Lady Honor said has made us look forward ever so much to knowing you. I think it was a little that,” she went on, smiling again, “that made me beg papa to bring me with him this morning.”
How ashamed I felt! It seemed as if I were to do nothing but be ashamed this morning—and this time with more reason. My ugly suspicions of Lady Honor were something to be ashamed of. She had always been a true and kind friend; and just because she did not flatter and spoil me, I could not trust the good old lady.
“Oh,” I began, “I didn’t mean—I thought perhaps—”
Then I stopped short. “My real name is Constantia,” I went on hurriedly, “not Constance. I think Constantia prettier; don’t you?”
“It is more uncommon; it’s like my name. People think mine is Eva or Evelyn, when they hear me called—”
“Evey!” came her father’s voice across the room. We both laughed.
“Wasn’t that funny?” said Evey, as she turned with a “Yes, papa.”
“Wasn’t there something else rather particular, that you had to ask about, if possible, at once?” said Captain Whyte. “Mrs Percy is so kind.”