"But where are you to live?"
"In my skin. Don't ruck up your forehead like a wizened monkey! I've been calculating that I shall require no clothing for a year, and no footgear. I'm very rough on my boots. So my allowance will go for my food. I must get cheap lodgings somewhere. One room will do for me, as I shall always be in bed. Why, lots of old bedridden women in the country villages live on less than you give me for my clothes."
Her brother paced the room restlessly. Then his face lighted up.
"How would you like to go up to that Scotch shooting lodge of mine? Could you stand the quiet and solitariness of it? There's old Granny Mactavish who would wait upon you. And then there would be no rent to pay, and she keeps a cow and some hens, so those would feed you."
Rowena's eyes literally danced in her head.
"And Geraldine says that you are not practical! Ah, here she is. Come along and see how quickly we've settled things. I'm going up to Loch Tarlie. And a cow and some hens are going to nourish and sustain me!"
"Oh, Rowena! Ted, you will never encourage her to go there! She could die and be buried before we should hear of it, or anyone else. Besides, I don't think it would be proper. Isn't she too young to live in the wilds by herself?"
Both Ted and Rowena began to laugh, and Rowena's laughter was so infectious that Geraldine's grave face relaxed.
"Is it a joke?" she asked. "Of course you might like it for the summer, Rowena dear, but think of the winter! How could you live there? And you're a sociable creature and have always been accustomed to see a good many people. Why, it is fifty miles from rail! And there are no shops, or libraries, or theatres, or concerts, or the mildest form of amusement for you!"
Rowena held up her ten fingers.