I heard Dick--he's my biggest brother--learning his "Rep" the other day.
I don't quite know what "Rep" is; but he was saying some words over and
over again, and some of them stuck in my head. I can remember them now.
I don't often remember things; but that is because I've got a head like
a sieve--nurse says so.
"What's in a name?" he read out of the book--and then something about a
rose smelling sweet. _That_ part doesn't matter.
If Dick had asked _me_ "What's in a name?" I could have told him quite
well. But Dick didn't ask me, and so I will tell you instead. I think
there's a great deal in a name--at least, in a nickname. There are all
kinds of spiteful little prickles that hurt ever so much more than
others, because they stick in our _feelings_.
I think I must have got a whole lot of that kind of thorn in me just
now, for I _do_ feel sore.
Every one has begun to call me Matty, and I can't _bear_ it!
Did you say Matty was rather a pretty name?
Perhaps it is, if it is the proper short for your name; I mean, if you
were christened Matilda. But _my_ name's Ginevra!
Now, do you understand that they all call me Matty just to tease me, and
I _hate_ it. I do.
I've got as far as adjectives in grammar, so I know that the long horrid
word which they put before Matty sometimes is an adjective. I'm not
going to write it down here--no, not for any one--because it is such a
nasty, unkind word. But it begins with an M. The next letter is an E,
and then comes D, and there are seven more letters, I think.
And this is all because the other day it was raining very fast, and
there was nothing to do!
There never is anything to do on a wet day; I mean, nothing interesting.
Dick plays with me sometimes; but he was reading a story, with dreadful
_fighting_ pictures to it, in the _Boy's Own Paper_, so I knew he
wouldn't want to come. And Teddie had gone to sleep in the armchair.
Wasn't that a stupid thing to do?
Well! I was obliged to get something to do--wasn't I? And it wasn't my
fault that Ann left the dear little drawing-room bellows behind her,
when she came to make up the fire, was it?
You can do nice, funny things with bellows.
I've tried.
But Dick didn't like me to blow down his neck; and Teddie got quite
cross when I sent a puff of wind into his ear and woke him up. He
needn't have thrown the footstool at me, need he?
I went out of the schoolroom after that, and such a _nice_ thought came
into my head.