"Tell me, Annette. Are your uncle and aunt kind to you?"
"They are neither kind nor unkind. They talk a great deal to each other, but very seldom to me, unless it is to order me to do something. Aunt says, 'Go to bed,' and I go to bed; 'It is time to get up,' and I get up? 'Come to dinner,' and I come to dinner. It is all like that; they never speak to me as my father and mother did, and they have never kissed me."
"You must be obedient to them, Annette."
"I will be, Basil."
"They are your guardians, and a great deal depends upon them."
"Yes, I know that; but I don't think they like me, and, Basil, I don't think uncle is a good man."
"It will be better," said Basil gravely, "not to fancy that. It may be only that he is a little different from other men, and that you are not accustomed to his ways."
"I will try," said Annette piteously, "to obey you in everything, but I can't help my thoughts, and I can't help seeing and hearing. He speaks in a hard voice to everybody; he is unkind to animals; he has never put a flower on my dear father's grave."
"There, there, Annette--don't cry. I only want you to make the best, and not the worst, of things."
"I will, Basil--indeed, indeed I will. When I am far away from you, you will think, will you not, that I am trying hard to do everything to please you?"