“Well, your mother told me I was just an impostor and a fraud, and turned me out. Your aunt had certainly forgotten her people, for she assured me I’d have a warm welcome, and be asked to stay.”
“My mother is a bit hasty sometimes,” he murmured, “and as to visitors—she is dreadfully worried with servants; she never even asks over her own relations.”
“Do you believe I’m telling truth or lies,” demanded Mrs. Aron suddenly.
“The truth. Yes I do! I think you have it in your face. And it was kind of you to come and look us up. I’d like to know my aunt Nora. Mind you give her my love.”
“Yes, I will. She has not many to love her.”
“Why so?”
“Because she is so rich; now”—and she hesitated. “I am myself a bit pressed for money for the price of my hotel bill and a second-class ticket to Queenstown.” She paused, and looked at him interrogatively, “and—you see for yourself I’ve no friends here!”
The young man reddened as he answered—
“I’m not to say flush just now, but I think I can scrape up ten pounds.”