"Oh, how that frightened me!" Mrs. Fabian panted and looked angrily at the animal with the jetty coat and abbreviated tail, whose eyes, live emeralds, expanded and contracted as they glowed still upon the coveted fur.
If she expected an apology, none came. Eliza's pale face showed no emotion. Endurance was written in every line.
"To be interrupted at such a critical moment!" Mrs. Fabian felt it was unbearable.
"Let me see"—she began again with a little laugh. "Your pet knocked everything out of my head, Eliza. Oh, yes, I was saying that I will look over Aunt Mary's things now."
She rose as she spoke. Eliza kept her seat.
"You can't do that, Mrs. Fabian."
"I certainly shall, Eliza Brewster. What do you mean?"
"I mean that they're mine. She left 'em all to me."
The speaker struggled to control the trembling of her lips.
The visitor looked the limp black alpaca figure over, haughtily.