Of course I do! Well, I told him everything (when I got started there was no stopping)--all about how hard it was to be Mary, and how to-day I had tried to be Marie for just a little while, to rest me.

He interrupted here, and wanted to know if that was why I looked so different to-day--more as I had when I first came; and I said yes, that these were Marie things that Mary couldn't wear.

And when he asked, "Why, pray ?" in a voice almost cross, I told him, of course, that Aunt Jane wouldn't let me; that Mary had to wear brown serge and calfskin boots that were durable, and that would wear well.
And when I told him how sorry I was about the music and such a noise as I'd been making, he asked if _that_ was Marie's fault, too; and I said yes, of course--that Aunt Jane didn't like to have Mary play at all, except hymns and funeral marches, and Mary didn't know any.

And he grunted a queer little grunt, and said, "Well, well, upon my soul, upon my soul!" Then he said, "Go on." And I did go on.
I told him how I was afraid it _was_ going to be just like Dr.Jekyll and Mr.Hyde.

(I forgot to say I've read it now.