"If you want to know my name, date of birth, parentage and the rest of
it," went on the girl, in a tone of half-playful recklessness, "why, I
have no details to give you. I don't know anything about myself, and
nobody I know seems to know any more. Granny says she does, but I don't
believe her."

She paused.

"Why, surely," began Max, "your own grandmother--"

"But I don't even know that she is my own grandmother," interrupted the
girl, sharply. "If she were, wouldn't she know my name?"

"That seems probable, certainly."

"Well, she doesn't, or she says she doesn't. She pretends she has
forgotten, or puts me off when I ask questions, though any one can
understand my asking them."

This was puzzling, certainly. Max had no satisfactory explanation to
offer, so he shook his head and tried to look wise. As long as she would
go on talking, and about herself, too, he didn't care what she said.

"What does she call you?" asked he, after a silence.

"Carrie--Carrie Rivers. But the 'Rivers' is not my name, I know. It was
given me by Miss Aldridge, who brought me up, and she told me it wasn't
my real name, but that she gave it to me because it was 'proper to have
one.' So how can I believe Granny when she says that it is not my name?