Mary Russell was up and dressed for almost the first time, and able to sit in the garden. She heard mother speaking, and presently she beckoned to me to come and sit by her with my work, while mother was busy indoors.
I didn't mind going, though everything felt so flat and dull those days, with Mr. Russell gone, that I could not care much about anything. However, I took up my work, and dragged myself across to where Mary sat, smiling at the flowers.
"Come, Kitty," says she; and when I was by her, she asked— "Has something gone wrong?"
"It doesn't matter," I said, getting red, for I did not want to explain.
"I think it does," said she, "if it makes Kitty look so unhappy. Come, put down the work, and tell me all about it."
"I can't!" I said, beginning to sew fast.
"I think you can," said site, and she spoke quiet, but in a determined sort of voice that I hadn't heard in her before. "Kitty, tell me! Was it something about my brother?"
I couldn't look up in her face, and I wouldn't say "Yes."
"I think I know part already, and I want to know the rest," she said. "Don't think me meddlesome, for I have a reason."
And she took hold of both my hands, so I couldn't work.