“How can you conjure up such ghastly things?” said Ellen, stooping to kiss her. “In this room you are going to stay till you are able to go home. Moreover, you are not to fret over it another minute. Look at this, if you please.” She produced her check and gave it into her cousin’s hands.
“Where did you get this? What have you been doing? Who is this Reed Marshall?”
“I’ve been doing nothing disgraceful. Just keep quiet and I’ll tell you all about it,” which she proceeded to do.
“But your father’s violin! I’m not going to consent to you selling it.”
“You can’t help yourself; the deed is done. Now listen to me, Cousin Rindy, and don’t work yourself up into a pepper-jig. You know perfectly well that the violin is a useless possession so far as I am concerned, and one who is always discoursing upon usefulness and scorning sentimentality should encourage me in getting rid of it.”
“But not for my benefit; the price should be set aside for your own educational advantages.”
“Educational advantages go to grass! But for you I might this minute be scrubbing down the back stairs of an orphan asylum. Do allow me the happiness of paying a little toward my debts.”
“But I know how delighted you were to have the violin, and it grieves me to have you give it up.”
“I am surprised at you, Orinda Crump; the idea of you encouraging me in maudlin sentiment, a practical body like you. Now don’t let’s hear any more about it. I have you where you can’t badger me, so let’s accept what Heaven has sent and say Thank you to Reed Marshall.”
“Who is he? You haven’t told me.”