“I fancy you brought yourself up, wherever you were. I don’t think poor Mrs Smith had much voice in the matter,” thought Zoe. “Well, you ought to be satisfied now,” she said aloud.
“I know I ought, but do you know”—the girl bent towards her confidentially—“I am a little—almost frightened. We have never travelled unattended before, and my aunt is so nervous.”
“But why in the world didn’t you bring a maid or a courier, or both?” cried Zoe, astonished.
“That is what we ought to have done, of course, and at Therma I shall insist on our finding suitable attendants. But I was going to propose that we should join forces for the journey. If you and your brother will favour us with your society—especially at meals—we should have no fear of making disagreeable acquaintances.” She spoke with the utmost coolness, and without any of the blushing diffidence that might have been expected—almost as if the suggestion, which should surely in any case have come from her aunt, was an honour not to be declined.
“My good girl, what is your game?” thought the scandalised Zoe. “Is it Maurice?” with a sister’s instinctive vigilance. “If it is, you are the very coolest hand I ever saw. I don’t think you need be in the least frightened,” she said frigidly. “English ladies are not likely to be molested when there are so many Englishmen in the train.”
“What did I tell you, Eirene?” cried Mrs Smith, waking at an inopportune moment. “You have too little regard for the conventions. This young lady finds your freedom altogether shocking.”
“Edith—Emily—Irene! How many more names has she got?” was Zoe’s mental comment as she watched, rather mercilessly, the flush which rose into Miss Smith’s face.
“I have requested you already to leave this matter to me,” said the young lady coldly, and the aunt collapsed. “Yes, my name is Eirene,” turning to Zoe with a radiant smile. “Spelt with an E, you know,” as Zoe’s eyes wandered to the “E. E. Smith” upon a jewel-case. “We were so anxious to be English that my aunt has been trying to call me by a real English name, but it is no use. I hope you will call me Eirene in future. And you will relieve my curiosity by telling me your name? Z is such a strange initial, and I saw it upon your bag.”
“My name is Zoe,” admitted the owner of the name reluctantly as she rose to leave the compartment.
“A Greek name, surely, like my own? Perhaps we are really distant cousins after all! Then it is settled that you and your brother join us at meals?”