"Miss Derrick," said the black-eyed lady, "I wish you to tell—as the penalty of your forfeit—why, when you thought the Rhododendron the most perfect flower, you did not take it for your name?"
If anybody had known the pain this question gave Faith—the leap of dismay that her heart made! Nobody knew it; her head drooped, and the colour rose again to be sure; but one hand sheltered the exposed cheek and the other was turned to the fire. She could not refuse to answer, and with the doctor's weapons she would not; but here, as once before, Faith's straightforwardness saved her.
"Why didn't you call yourself Rhodora?" repeated Miss Essie. And Faith answered,—
"Because another name was suggested to me."
The question could not decently be pushed any further; and both Miss Essie and the doctor looked as if they had failed. Faith's own tumult and sinking of heart prevented her knowing how thoroughly this was true.
"And you two people," said Mr. Linden, "come and ask Miss Derrick why she chose to appropriate a character that she thought fell short of perfection!—what is the use of telling anybody anything, after that?"
"I am only one people," said Miss Essie.
"I am another," said the doctor; "and I confess myself curious. Besides, a single point of imperfection might be supposed, without injury to mortal and human nature."
"Julius," said Miss Harrison, "will you have the goodness to do so impolite a thing as to look at your watch? Aunt Ellen will expect us to set a proper example. Dear Faith, are you bound to sit in that big chair all night?"
Then there was a general stir and break-up of the party. One bit of conversation Faith was fated to hear as she slowly made her way out of the dressing-room door, among comers and goers: the first speaker was a young De Staff.