"I know—I'm sure of it," says the professor with a sigh that might be called a groan. "But your aunt, Miss Majendie—your mother's sister—can——"
"I don't believe she is my mother's sister," says Miss Wynter calmly. "I have seen my mother's picture. It is lovely! Aunt Jane was a changeling—I'm sure of it. But never mind her. You were going to say——?"
"That Miss Majendie, who is virtually your guardian—can explain it all to you much better than I can."
"Aunt Jane is not my guardian!" The mild look of enquiry changes to one of light anger. The white brown contracts. "And certainly she could never make one happy and comfortable. Well—what else?"
"She will look after——"
"I told you I don't care about Aunt Jane. Tell me what you can do——"
"See that your fortune is not——"
"I don't care about my fortune either," with a little petulant gesture. "But I do care about my happiness. Will you see to that?"
"Of course," says the professor gravely.
"Then you will take me away from Aunt Jane!" The small vivacious face is now all aglow. "I am not happy with Aunt Jane. I"—clasping her hands, and letting a quick, vindictive fire light her eyes—"I hate Aunt Jane. She says things about poor papa that—— Oh! how I hate her!"