"Tell me what she is like."
"I can't. I don't want to talk about her to you."
"Do you feel that I am not worthy?" Lena asked, with a gleam of amusement in her eyes.
"I don't think you worthy or unworthy," Margaret answered; "but I don't want to talk about her to you."
"You are very curious, little Margaret. I am glad we have met." Lena leaned forward, as if she were trying to dive into the innermost depths of the soul before her, but Margaret felt half afraid of her, as of something uncanny.
"I don't think I am glad," she whispered, and shuddered.
"But you mustn't struggle against me, dear—you can't," she whispered back; "because I understand people—mother and I do. The tea is ready; I will go and bring your father here." She rose and slipped softly through the curtains.