"You do not seem very
ill."
"I'm on my last legs. I may not live an hour. But that's none of your
business, I suppose. By the way, I expect your cousin on the afternoon
train."
Beth gave a start of surprise.
"My cousin?" she asked.
"Yes, Louise Merrick."
"Oh!" said Beth, and stopped short.
"What do you mean by that?" enquired Aunt Jane, with a smile that was
rather malicious.
"I did not know I had a cousin," said the girl. "That is," correcting
herself, "I did not know whether Louise Merrick was alive or not.
Mother has mentioned her name once or twice in my presence; but not
lately."
"Well, she's alive. Very much alive, I believe. And she's coming to
visit me, while you are here. I expect you to be friends."
"To be sure," said Beth, nevertheless discomfited at the news.
"We dine at seven," said Aunt Jane. "I always lunch in my own room,
and you may do the same," and with a wave of her thin hand she
dismissed the girl, who thoughtfully followed the old housekeeper
through the halls.
It was not going to be an easy task to win this old woman's affection.
Already she rebelled at the necessity of undertaking so distasteful a
venture and wondered if she had not made a mistake in trying to curb
her natural frankness, and to conciliate a creature whose very nature
seemed antagonistic to her own.
Pages:
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59