“Another false alarm, auntie!” she said. “Maybe you’re going to have your wish, and he won’t come at all. But”—she paused and suddenly dropped on her knees beside the elder woman’s chair. “Dear auntie,” she murmured, softly. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry to grieve you. I know you don’t approve of what Lillian is doing—”
“Nellie!” Miss Lee’s tone was shocked.
“Oh! It’s true, auntie. You’re always thinking that gentlewomen don’t do such things and yet you are always perfectly certain that Lilly must be a gentlewoman because she is a Byrd. Well! auntie! Neither Lilly nor I are gentlewomen. We may be ladies—I hope we are—but we’re not gentlewomen. There are no gentlewomen in these days. They went out of existence with crinoline—except where they survive in such delightful creatures as you. No gentlewoman earns her own living, and Lilly and I have got to earn ours. Times have changed, auntie, dear! This branch of the Byrd family is poor, dead poor. Lilly threw herself into the breach and is making lots of money, while I barely starve along. I’m tired of it, and if Mr. McNew wants my services, he can have them, at a price.” A twinkle came into the girl’s eyes. “I hope he won’t want me to go a-burgling, and then tell what it feels like,” she finished.
“Nellie!”
“Oh! I was only joking, you dear old thing!”
“I know, dear!” returned the older lady, plaintively. “But do you think it’s quite proper to jest on such subjects? I can’t bear to think of such a thing. Oh! if you—” She broke off as the front bell rang, loudly and insistently.
Nellie Byrd sprang to her feet.
“It’s they,” she cried, darting to the door. Then she came back. “Dear auntie!” she breathed. “It’s all right. Don’t worry.” Then she tripped down the stairs to admit her visitors.
McNew entered first—a big rough-looking man with a pointed beard. “Miss Byrd?” he questioned.
“Yes! You are Mr. McNew, I suppose. Won’t you come in?”