Arabella had removed her hat and cloak, and trying very hard to stop shivering, she pushed aside the portière, and stood in the glow of the shaded lamp.
“Warmer weather to-morrow, the paper says, and I guess we shall all be glad to have it,” Aunt Matilda was saying.
“It w-would be f-fine to h-h-have it w-w-warmer,” said Arabella, her teeth chattering so that she thought every one must hear them rattle.
Over her paper Aunt Matilda's bright eyes peered at the little girl who shivered in spite of her effort to stand very still.
“Where have you been, Arabella? You're chilled through. I say, where have you been?”
“I've just taken quite a long walk,” Arabella replied.
“If you've taken a long walk as late as this in the afternoon, you've come some distance. Have you been spending this whole afternoon at that Lavine girl's house?”
“No'm,” said Arabella, “I haven't been in her house any of the afternoon; I've been out-of-doors.”
Aunt Matilda threw up her hands in amazement, as if a number of hours in the open air ought to have actually killed Arabella, whereas, she really was alive, but exceedingly chilly.
Then the very thing happened which Arabella had told Patricia would happen.