Miss Anne obeyed slowly. She had been educated never to do anything in a hurry.
"The second post has brought me a letter from Frederick. He asks something unexpected—something which I really do not think we can grant. I do not see that it is possible." Miss Storey spoke in a troubled voice. "I really do not think we can!"
Miss Anne made a little movement, as if holding out her hand for the letter, but she checked herself.
"Yes, you shall see it. I wish you to see it. In fact, it is written to you as well as to me. But I wanted to prepare you first. It came upon me quite as a shock. All the morning I have had it on my mind, and Hecla has been more forgetful than ever—really very trying, poor child. But you will see what they ask—Frederick and Mary, I mean. He has the offer of a good appointment in a place very unhealthy for children. They cannot take little Ivy, and Mary says she cannot let her husband go without her. And they ask—us!"
Miss Anne read the letter slowly. Then she looked up at her sister and read it again.
"You see! The thing is impossible. Quite impossible! A child of five! To come here as if our hands were not full enough already! A child of five! What a dreadful idea!"
Miss Anne's soft blue eyes had a curious light in them. She did not look as if the idea were so dreadful to her.
"I cannot imagine what they are thinking about to ask such a thing," pursued Miss Storey, her little thin hands trembling. "Of course, when our dear sister was taken from us, there could be no question about giving a home to her child. But this is not at all the same. Frederick is only our cousin."
"Our only first cousin!" murmured Miss Anne.
"Yes, but still—he really has no right to expect anything of the sort. And—five years old! Such a troublesome, mischievous age. Hecla is trying enough, so careless and forgetful. Still, she does understand, when one explains to her. But—five years old—a mere baby! We should have to send Elisabeth away, and have an older servant. Impossible!"