She looked up at him with confidence, and then to her astonishment, he winked one of his eyes slowly at her.
Then Harebell laughed aloud. Her aunt turned upon her sharply.
"What is the matter?"
"He is so funny!" said Harebell, pointing with her finger to the old man, who was now shouldering her heavy luggage as if it were only a featherweight.
"Do you mean Andrews? It is rude to laugh at people, even if they be servants."
Harebell's smile disappeared at once. She followed her aunt up a short wide staircase, and was shown into a room. It was small, but there was a blazing fire in it; bright pictures were on the walls, a little white bed in the corner, and flowered chintz curtains hung in the windows.
"Is this for me?" Harebell asked timidly.
"It is your room, and I shall expect you to keep it tidy."
Then Harebell wheeled round upon her aunt with clasped hands.
"It is beautiful," she cried with shining eyes; "and I think you beautiful too!"