The pale eyes emitted a curious light.
"No, you wouldn't, Mrs. Fabian," was the quiet reply.
"Why do you say that?"
"Because the time for you to have done something for Mrs. Ballard was while she was alive."
Eliza was too spent physically to speak other than softly, but her words brought the amazed color to her visitor's face.
"You are presuming," Mrs. Fabian said, after a moment. "What do you know about it? I suppose Aunt Mary did not think it worth while to tell you all the things I did for her."
"No," agreed Eliza, "she never said a word about the times you came with your automobile to take her riding; nor the picture exhibitions you took her to see, or the way you had her to dinner Thanksgivin' time and other times, or how you had her to spend part o' the summer with you at the island, or—"
"Eliza Brewster, what does this mean!" Mrs. Fabian's eyes were dilated. "Aunt Mary was not related to my husband or to his children. I never expected him to marry my family."
Miss Brewster's gaze was fixed upon the speaker with pale scorn, but the latter continued with what she endeavored to make a dignified defence. "I always sent Aunt Mary a present at Christmas."
"Yes," interrupted Eliza. "Last season 'twas a paper-cutter. You gave her cuts enough without that."