"No, Martha, it is not. And I am sure that I am right. It's no good going back and undoing in ten minutes what twenty years have done. She's a poor harmless creature, I believe."
"The most harmless in the world, ma'am."
"But she was as bad as poison to me when she was young, and what's the good of trying to change it now? If I was to tell her that I loved her, I should only be lying."
"Then, ma'am, I would not say it."
"And I don't mean. But you'll take in some wine and cake, you know."
"I don't think they'll care for wine and cake."
"Will you do as I tell you? What matters whether they care for it or not? They need not take it. It will look better for Miss Dorothy. If Dorothy is to remain here I shall choose that she should be respected." And so the question of the cake and wine had been decided overnight. But when the morning came Miss Stanbury was still in a twitter. Half-past ten had been the hour fixed for the visit, in consequence of there being a train in from Lessboro', due at the Exeter station at ten. As Miss Stanbury breakfasted always at half-past eight, there was no need of hurry on account of the expected visit. But, nevertheless, she was in a fuss all the morning; and spoke of the coming period as one in which she must necessarily put herself into solitary confinement.
"Perhaps your mamma will be cold," she said, "and will expect a fire."
"Oh, dear, no, Aunt Stanbury."
"It could be lighted of course. It is a pity they should come just so as to prevent you from going to morning service; is it not?"