Page:The Yellow Book - 13.djvu/194

176 the Poppy that's wrong; I mean, it's my pet name, don't you see, and it wouldn't do."

"No," he said, dryly. "Perhaps it wouldn't."

"My real name is Anna," she continued, "Anna Wilson. You understand, don't you?" Even for the sake of the disguise, she could not endure that he should think of her as Poppy.

"Real name Anna, pet name Poppy, address care of Miss Anna — hullo? " he stopped writing on his cuff and looked down at her sternly. "You seem to have the same name as the elderly lady who looks after you. How's this? I don't believe your name is Anna at all."

This was a little hard, as it was the only true statement she had yet made.

"My name is Anna," she said, indignantly. "And so is hers. It's only a coincidence that we both have the same name; in fact, it was because of that that we first made friends, years ago at school. You see, we began by being at school together, and we've been together ever since, more or less. And — and when I left home, she let me come and live in her flat, that's all. It doesn't seem odd to me, but perhaps you don't know much about girls' Christian names? And she isn't elderly at all! She's young, and rather pretty, and"

"Oh, all right; I don't care what she's like. Don't forget about Monday; and look here, you can come in that hat; it's rather nice. Good-bye."

"I shall wear my very oldest hat and all the clothes that don't suit me," she resolved, rebelliously, as she went downstairs.

She surprised her maid very much at dinner-time, that evening, by laughing softly to herself at intervals; and she might have been discovered, more than once, with her elbows on the mantel shelf, gazing at the reflection of herself in the mirror. But as the Rh