'Yes.'
'I wish that were my luck.'
'To pry after me?'
'No, that I might find work. Why are you going away?'
'To be made into a lady. My father is a gentleman.'
'And where is this wonderful change to be made?'
'I will not tell you. Of one thing I am glad. For that I shed no tears. I shall be relieved of your presence.'
'I cannot get away from Seaton. I am like one of the pebbles here, rolled up and down, forward, backward—and always on the one ridge. Is your mother leaving also?'
'She is not. This is Mrs. Jose's doing. That is to say, she has found the place where I am to be. She has got distinguished relatives who live in the best society. I am to go to them. They are to roll me up and down, forward and backward, till all my roughness is rubbed away.'
'Ah! you—but you are a precious stone—chalcedony, a hard one. I—I am rolled, but only to be ground to nothing.'