I wouldn't like to hurt your feelings, Aunt Anne,
and it isn't that I'm not happy with you and Aunt Elizabeth, but I
ought to be earning my own living, oughtn't I? And I've only got my
three hundred pounds, haven't I? I'm not complaining, but I don't
know about anything yet, do I? I can't even find my way when I'm out
with Aunt Elizabeth. And I'm afraid I'll never be really good enough
to be religious. Perhaps if Father'd wanted me to be I might be now,
but he never cared . . . I hope you won't be angry, Aunt Anne, but I
didn't like to-night--I didn't really. When I was there I thought
that soon I'd begin to cry like the others, but it was only because
every one else was crying--not because I wanted to. I hope you won't
be angry, but I'm afraid I'll never be religious as you and Aunt
Elizabeth want me to be; so don't you think it will be better for me
to start learning something else right away?"
Maggie poured all this out and then felt immense relief. At last she
was honest again; at last she had said what she felt, and they knew
it and could never say that she hadn't been fair with them. She felt
that her speech had cleared the air in every kind of way.
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