"It's not teasing—it's truth," said the elder girl. "You're not the baby any more. She," and she pointed to me, "she's younger than you."
"How old are you?" said Harriet roughly.
"Nine past," I said. "Nine and a half."
"Hurrah! Hurrah!" shouted Harriet. "I'm only nine and a month. I'm still the baby, Miss Joe."
She was half a head at least taller than I, and broad in proportion.
"What a mite you are, to be sure," said Miss Mellor, "nine and a half and no bigger than that."
I felt myself getting red. I think one or two of the girls must have had perception enough to feel a little sorry for me, for one of them—I fancy it was Miss Lardner—said in a good-natured patronising way,
"You haven't told us your name yet, after all."
"It's Geraldine," I said. "That's my first name, and I'm always called it."