An involuntary smile crossed the other girl's face as she listened to Margaret's prim little way of speaking. "I know, and I was rather cross about the bag, wasn't I? but I had just got hold of the tail of a rather difficult sentence and it gave a wriggle and vanished when you spoke. However, please don't look so dreadfully sorry. I made a successful grab at it a few minutes afterwards. Now shall we tell each other our names. Mine is Eleanor----" She stopped short in amazement, for Margaret had sprung to her feet and was gazing at her with eyes that fairly shone with excitement. "Eleanor!" she cried, "Eleanor! Oh, no, not really and truly!" "Why not? Don't you like the name?" "Like it! Why, of course I am very, very fond of it. It is the name of some one I love very much. I suppose your other name is not Humphreys, is it? But it would be really too much if it were." "It's not. Eleanor Kathleen Carson is my full name." "Eleanor Kathleen Carson," repeated Margaret when her excitement had calmed somewhat. "It's a lovely name, though, of course, it ought by rights to have been Eleanor Humphreys. I know now the reason why I liked you so much the moment I saw you." "Not the first moment," said Eleanor, with twinkling eyes. "You thought me horrid the first moment you saw me, and scuttled from the room as hard as you could." "No, I liked you from the first," Margaret repeated firmly. "Only I was shy. It was very stupid of me," she added, partly to herself, "to be shy of you when your name was Eleanor all the time." "And who is this Eleanor of whom you appear so fond?" demanded Miss Carson. "To begin with, you tell me that I am the very first girl you have ever spoken to, and then that you have a friend called Eleanor. Pray explain the discrepancy in these statements." But Margaret, looking at the laughing light in the curious red-brown eyes bent upon her, shook her head. "I believe you would laugh at the other Eleanor," she said, "so I don't think I shall tell you. But I will tell you my name. It is Margaret Anstruther." "And where do you live, Margaret Anstruther?" "At Clayton, in Flatshire, with my grandfather." "And have you any brothers and sisters, Margaret Anstruther?" "No." "And no friends, you said?" "No." "Where were you educated, Margaret Anstruther?" "At home, with a governess. Her name was Miss Bidwell. She went away to Germany three months ago, because her eyes were causing her grave trouble, and it may be necessary for her to have an operation." "Since when you have been alone with your grandfather?" "Yes." "You seem to have led a very quiet life. Was your governess clever, and were you an industrious child, and loved your lessons?" "She was very clever, and I was very industrious," smiled Margaret, who was thoroughly enjoying this string of half banteringly put questions. "But I did not love my lessons." "Lazy, Margaret Anstruther? Why not?"