“Then I won’t go,” I said sulkily; “I will stay at home Anna may have the Whytes all to herself.”
Papa looked at me. It was like the waiting for the thunderclap one knows must come.
“If you do not go, and, what is more, behave like a lady, I shall tell the reason in plain words to Captain and Mrs Whyte, and leave them to judge if you are a fitting associate for their children.”
I said nothing more. I knew I must give in. I had met with my master! Mamma was nearly crying by this time, but I was not the least sorry for her, I was only angry. I turned and left the room, saying as I did so, in a cool, hard voice, that I hardly recognised as my own:
“Very well. I will be ready in time.”
Chapter Nine.
The Strange Old Woman.
It was a good thing for Anna’s own comfort that afternoon that she was not of a very observant nature, otherwise she would certainly not have found me either a pleasant or courteous companion. I was obliged to obey papa, and I dared not be positively rude to her, but beyond this I was determined not to go; the very feeling of having been forced to give in made me the more bitter and the more inclined to resent my grievances on her, the innocent cause of them. But Anna had never been accustomed to overmuch civility from me; even as quite little children I had treated her as if it did not matter how she was treated. And she only smiled placidly at my vagaries, and doubtless said to herself that “poor little Connie was very spoilt.”