"I have not come near dying yet," was the rather dry rejoinder.
"You need not be so curt and sharply sweet, my dear. Here I have been listening to marvellous accounts of your amiability and devotion"—
"Don't, Rene!" implored her mother. "Sylvie is good to me."
"And it might make the sweetness weak if she stretched it out to me! Keep it intact for those who so delight in it. I am fond of spice and high flavoring."
"These nectarines are perfect," declared Mrs. Lawrence. "One can taste the sunshine in them."
"How poetic, mother mine! Does Fred come and read Latin verses to you and Sylvie? I may have one"—stretching out her jewelled hand. "Oh, they are delicious! worth coming home for, even if I had not wanted mamma's pearls."
"And money and every thing," added her mother. "Rene, you ought not to be so extravagant. Papa is quite depressed with the state of business."
"Yes, I have heard that ever since I left my cradle;" and Rene laughed gayly.
It suddenly crossed Sylvie's mind: what if this proud, imperious girl should be reduced to poverty some day?
"Don't plan a conspiracy against me, Sylvie Barry! I saw it in your eyes!"