“I know; such a stiff old maid, too. You’ll all be just like her. Well, I’m going in. I wonder if there are many pictures in that album; I’m going to look.”
“Come out, Mary; we had better not disturb anything. I am sure Miss Lane would be displeased.”
“You all act as if you were afraid of her. She isn’t mistress here yet. Mamma said may-be she’d be your stepmother sometime; how would you like that?”
The child’s face became scarlet; she stamped her foot.
“It is not true; it is a wicked story. You are very bad to say so. I’ll ask papa;” and Lillie sat down in the window with tears in her eyes.
In the mean time, Mary was examining one by one the contents of the room, opening books and boxes, and peering about, full of curiosity.
“Oh, Lillie, here is this bottle; it is so delicious! Oh, just smell—Cologne! And isn’t the bottle pretty?”
“Beautiful!” exclaimed Lillie, springing up and taking it out of her hand quickly—too quickly; the choice ornament fell from her grasp, and lay broken in two pieces upon the floor, while the odor of the Cologne water filled the room.
Lillie’s cheeks crimsoned; she stood with clasped hands and loud beating heart, surveying the fragments.
“What shall we do?” she exclaimed.