We were delighted, and I could have hugged Cousin Cornelia. Indeed, I did thank her warmly, and was rather surprised that Phil, who usually overflows with gratitude for the slightest kindness, was not more effusive over my relative's interest in our affairs, and her broad-minded verdict.
"She's a lamb, after all, isn't she?" I asked, when the large lady had gone, and I was ready to creep into a bed only an inch too short for me.
"She may be a lamb, but she isn't going to let us shear her, if she can help it," said Phil, looking deadly wise.
"What do you mean?"
"My dear girl, with all your cleverness, you're only a baby child about some things. Don't you see what's she's driving at?"
I shook my head, with my hair about my face.
"Or what all her questions were leading up to? Well, then, what do you think has made her change her mind about our motor-boating?"
"She saw we could take care of ourselves."
"She has found out that we're poor, and obliged to. She supposed from what your cousin Robert told her, that we were heiresses; and she would have kept us on a long visit if—oh, you silly old dear, don't you see she's afraid of us—with him? She'll be polite and nice, but she wants us to disappear."
"Good gracious!"