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to do with her。〃
〃Who said so？ And Why？〃
〃Why？ Because I'm myself；〃 said Erica； with a bitter little laugh。 〃How I can help it； nobody seems to think。 But Gertrude's father has come back from Africa； and was horrified to learn that we were friends； made her promise never to speak to me again； and made her write this note about it。 Look！〃 and she took a crumpled envelope from her pocket。
The mother read the note in silence； and an expression of pain came over her face。 Erica； who was very impetuous； snatched it away from her when she saw that look of sadness。
〃Don't read the horrid thing！〃 she exclaimed； crushing it up in her hand。 〃There； we will burn it！〃 and she threw it into the fire with a vehemence which somehow relieved her。
〃You shouldn't have done that；〃 said her mother。 〃Your father will be sure to want to see it。〃
〃No； no； no；〃 cried Erica； passionately。 〃He must not know； you must not tell him； mother。〃
〃Dear child； have you not learned that it is impossible to keep anything from him？ He will find out directly that something is wrong。〃
〃It will grieve him so； he must not hear it；〃 said Erica。 〃He cares so much for what hurts us。 Oh！ Why are people so hard and cruel？ Why do they treat us like lepers？ It isn't all because of losing Gertrude； I could bear that if there were some real reason if she went away or died。 But there's no reason！ It's all prejudice and bigotry and injustice； it's that which makes it sting so。
Erica was not at all given to tears； but there was now a sort of choking in her throat； and a sort of dimness in her eyes which made her rather hurriedly settle down on the floor in her own particular nook beside her mother's couch； where her face could not be seen。 There was a silence。 Presently the mother spoke； stroking back the wavy； auburn hair with her thin white hand。
〃For a long time I have dreaded this for you； Erica。 I was afraid you didn't realize the sort of position the world will give you。 Till lately you have seen scarcely any but our own people； but it can hardly be； darling； that you can go on much longer without coming into contact with others； and then； more and more； you must realize that you are cut off from much that other girls may enjoy。〃
〃Why？〃 questioned Erica。 〃Why can't they be friendly？ Why must they cut us off from everything？〃
〃It does seem unjust； but you must remember that we belong to an unpopular minority。〃
〃But if I belonged to the larger party； I would at least be just to the smaller；〃 said Erica。 〃How can they expect us to think their system beautiful when the very first thing they show us is hatred and meanness。 Oh！ If I belonged to the other side I would show them how different it might be。〃
〃I believe you would；〃 said the mother； smiling a little at the idea； and at the vehemence of the speaker。 〃But； as it is； Erica； I am afraid you must school yourself to endure。 After all； I fancy you will be glad to share so soon in your father's vexations。〃
〃Yes；〃 said Erica； pushing back the hair from her forehead； and giving herself a kind of mental shaking。 〃I am glad of that。 After all； they can't spoil the best part of our lives！ I shall go into the garden to get rid of my bad temper； it doesn't rain now。〃
She struggled to her feet； picked up the little fur hat which had fallen off； kissed her mother； and went out of the room。
The 〃garden〃 was Erica's favorite resort； her own particular property。 It was about fifteen feet square； and no one but a Londoner would have bestowed on it so dignified a name。 But Erica； who was of an inventive turn； had contrived to make the most of the little patch of ground； had induced ivy to grow on the ugly brick walls； and with infinite care and satisfaction had nursed a few flowers and shrubs into tolerably healthy though smutty life。 In one of the corners； Tom Craigie； her favorite cousin； had put up a rough wooden bench for her； and here she read and dreamed as contentedly as if her 〃garden ground〃 had been fairy…land。 Here； too； she invariably came when anything had gone wrong； when the endless troubles about money which had weighed upon her all her life became a little less bearable than usual； or when some act of discourtesy or harshness to her father had roused in her a tingling； burning sense of indignation。
Erica was not one of those people who take life easily； things went very deeply with her。 In spite of her brightness and vivacity； in spite of her readiness to see the ludicrous in everything； and her singularly quick perceptions； she was also very keenly alive to other and graver impressions。
Her anger had passed； but still； as she paced round and round her small domain； her heart was very heavy。 Life seemed perplexing to her； but her mother had somehow struck the right key…note when she had spoken of the vexations which might be shared。 There was something inspiriting in that thought； certainly； for Erica worshipped her father。 By degrees the trouble and indignation died away； and a very sweet look stole over the grave little face。
A smutty sparrow came and peered down at her from the ivy…colored wall； and chirped and twittered in quite a friendly way； perhaps recognizing the scatter of its daily bread。
〃After all；〃 though Erica； 〃with ourselves and the animals； we might let the rest of the world treat us as they please。 I am glad they can't turn the animals and birds against us！ That would be worse than anything。〃
Then； suddenly turning from the abstract to the practical； she took out of her pocket a shabby little sealskin purse。
〃Still sixpence of my prize money over；〃 she remarked to herself； 〃I'll go and buy some scones for tea。 Father likes them。〃
Erica's father was a Scotchman； and； though so…called scones were to be had at most shops； there was only one place where she could buy scones which she considered worthy the name； and that was at the Scotch baker's in Southampton Row。 She hurried along the wet pavements； glad that the rain was over； for as soon as her purchase was completed she made up her mind to indulge for a few minutes in what had lately become a very frequent treat； namely a pause before a certain tempting store of second…hand books。 She had never had money enough to buy anything except the necessary school books； and； being a great lover of poetry； she always seized with avidity on anything that was to be found outside the book shop。 Sometimes she would carry away a verse of Swinburne； which would ring in her ears for days and days； sometimes she would read as much as two or three pages of Shelley。 No one had every interrupted her； and a certain sense of impropriety and daring was rather stimulating than otherwise。 It always brought to her mind a saying in the proverbs of Solomon； 〃Stolen waters are sweet； and bread eaten in secret is pleasant。〃
For three successive days she had found to her great delight Longfellow's 〃Hiawatha。〃 The strange meter； the musical Indian names； the delightfully described animals； all served to make the poem wonderfully fascinating to her。 She thought a page or two of 〃Hiawatha〃 would greatly sweeten her somewhat bitter world this afternoon； and with her bag