it was. I would rather be deep than shallow. But am I sly? No. I am not. Then what is it about me that makes people think I am sly? Aunt Ruth always insists that I am. I think it is because I have a habit, when I am bored or disgusted with people, of stepping suddenly into my own world and shutting the door. People resent this—I suppose it is only natural to resent a door being shut in your face. They call it slyness when it is only self-defence. So I won’t worry over that.
“Miss Potter said an abominable thing—that I passed off clever speeches I had read in books, as my own—trying to be smart. That is utterly false. Honestly, I never ‘try to be smart.’ But—I do try often to see how a certain thing I’ve thought out sounds when it is put into words. Perhaps this is a kind of showing-off. I must be careful about it.
“Jealous: no, I’m not that. I do like to be first, I admit. But it wasn’t because I was jealous of Ilse that I cried that night at the concert. I cried because I felt I had made a mess of my part. I was a stick, just as Mrs. Ann Cyrilla said. I can’t act a part somehow. Sometimes a certain part seems to suit me and then I can be it, but if not I’m no good in a dialogue. I only went in it to oblige Mrs. Johnson, and I felt horribly mortified because I knew she was disappointed. And I suppose my pride suffered a bit, but I never thought of being jealous of Ilse. I was proud of her—she does magnificently in a play.
“Yes, I contradict. I admit that is one of my faults. But people do say such outrageous things! And why isn’t it as bad for people to contradict me? They do it continually—and I am right just as often as they are.
“Sarcastic? Yes, I’m afraid that is another of my faults. Touchy—no, I’m not. I’m only sensitive. And proud? Well, yes, I am a little proud—but not nearly as proud as people think me. I can’t help carrying my head at a certain angle and I can’t help feeling it is a great thing to have a century of good, upright people with fine
