“Why—why—the property,” she managed to stammer.

“Oh, that.”

The words were uttered with an indifference too genuine to be questioned.

“Yes, the property,” repeated Ellen with cutting sarcasm. “Ain’t you interested in money; or have you got so much already that you couldn’t find a use for any more?”

The thrust told. Into the girl’s cheek surged a flame of crimson.

“I haven’t any money,” she returned with dignity. “Dad left me almost penniless. His illness used up all we had. Nevertheless, I was glad to spend it for his comfort, and I can earn more when I need it.”

“Humph.”

“Yes,” went on Lucy, raising her chin a trifle higher, “I am perfectly capable of supporting myself any time I wish to do so.”

“Mebbe you’d rather do that than stay here with me,” her aunt suggested derisively.

“Maybe,” was the simple retort. “I shall see.”

Ellen bit her lip and then for the second time her sense of humor overcame her.

“I guess there’s no doubtin’ you’re a 43 genuine Webster,” she replied good-humoredly. “I begin to think we shall get on together nicely.”

43

“I hope so.”

There was a reservation in the words that nettled Ellen.

“Why shouldn’t we?” she persisted.

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t you like your aunt?”

“Not altogether.”

The audacity of the reply appealed to the older woman, and her eyes twinkled. “Not altogether, eh?” she echoed. “Now I’m sorry to hear that because I like you very much.”

 Prev. P 23/163 next