"Oh, Lucy, I do not like it."
"Not your aunt?"
"She is not the worst, though she sometimes is hard to bear. I can't tell you what it is, but they all seem to think so much of themselves. In the first place they never will say a word about papa."
"Perhaps that is from feeling, Ayey."
"No, it is not. One would know that. But they look down upon papa, who had more in his little finger than they have with all their money."
"Then I should hold my tongue."
"So I do,—about him; but it is very hard. And then Augusta has a way with me, as though she had a right to order me. I certainly will not be ordered by Augusta. You never ordered me."
"Dear Ayey!"
"Augusta is older than you,—of course, ever so much. They make her out twenty-three at her last birthday, but she is twenty-four. But that is not difference enough for ordering,—certainly between cousins. I do hate Augusta."
"I would not hate her."