“Well, I don’t know the time when I’ve not met you either going or coming,” retorted Miss Rindy.
“Then that means you are out as often as I am,” declared Marietta triumphantly, and after this parting shot she announced that she must fly or Barry would be mad because she kept breakfast waiting; “though, goodness knows, he does it often enough himself,” she said as she went out.
“She’s rather a good sort, flibbertigibbet though she is,” admitted Miss Rindy. “She’s as generous as they make ’em, good-tempered, too. You never hear her pick people to pieces the way some do. You needn’t smile, Ellen; I know I do a good deal of criticising myself, but I try not to make it ill-natured. Besides I am analyzing the townsfolk for your benefit, so you may know what to expect. I suppose you’d find out for yourself in time, but forewarned is forearmed.”
The day was still young when Ellen discovered that she had not been forewarned in the case of Miss Sophia Garrett, who came in before the morning work was quite done. She was a lady of uncertain years but of no uncertain opinions. She prided herself upon being blunt and outspoken, avowing that she would speak the truth at any cost.
“Well, Rindy,” she began as she entered, “where’s the girl? I hear you have taken on a new responsibility. I hope you haven’t done anything rash, committed yourself so to speak. It is a serious undertaking to assume the care of a giddy young girl. Nobody can tell how she will turn out, and if she grows up to be a slattern or a light character, you will be censured for not bringing her up as you should.”
“Ellen may be young, but I don’t believe any one could charge her with being giddy,” Miss Rindy retorted.
“Well, you never can tell. A new broom sweeps clean. Are you going to train her as a servant or a lady? Is she bound out to you till she is eighteen? Somebody suggested that you had found her in an orphan asylum.”
“Then somebody spoke falsely.” Miss Rindy’s firm lips straightened to a hard line. “She is my cousin, and, being such, should not fail to be a lady. Come in, Ellen,” she invited as Ellen appeared at the door. “This is my young cousin, Ellen North, and Ellen, this is Miss Sophia Garrett, an old schoolmate of mine.”
Miss Garrett offered her hand and proceeded to look Ellen over with a critical eye. “Humph! she has red hair; that always means a high temper. It’s well she hasn’t the light eyebrows and eyelashes that generally go with red hair. She doesn’t look to be so very strong, but then maybe she’s one of the wiry kind. I like a bigger nose and a smaller mouth, myself.” Miss Garrett admired no features that did not resemble her own, no possessions which were unlike those she had. She was a short, chunky sort of person with thick arms and legs, big head, large nose, small mouth, and long chin. She had very large, prominent light blue eyes, and mouse-colored hair. She was distinctly the opposite of the type which Ellen had always been taught to admire, although she evidently was very much satisfied with herself.
After her survey of Ellen the questions began again. “Father and mother dead, did you say?” She turned to Miss Rindy.