"Don't you deceive yourself, Rella. You are not contented—not by a long chalk. You are doing your duty as you see it; and you've kept yourself down so long you've almost lost the power of motion. I'm trying to galvanize you awake—and I mean to do it."
"You might as well sit down while you're doing it, anyway," Miss Elder suggested meekly.
Dr. Bellair sat down, selecting a formidable fiddle-backed chair, the unflinching determination of its widely-placed feet being repeated by her own square toes. She placed herself in front of her friend and leaned forward, elbows on knees, her strong, intelligent hands clasped loosely.
"What have you got to look forward to, Rella?"
"I want to see Susie happily married—"
"I said you—not Susie."
"Oh—me? Why, I hope some day Morton will come back——"
"I said you—not Morton."
"Why I—you know I have friends, Jane —and neighbors. And some day, perhaps—I mean to go abroad."
"Are you scolding Aunt Rella again, Dr. Bellair. I won't stand it." Pretty Susie stood in the door smiling.