“Oh, auntie! are you angry?”
“Why should I be angry, dear? I may be grieved, but that’s another matter.”
On this ground Aunt Beryl finally took her stand.
“I’m not angry, dear—I’m grieved.”
And grieved Aunt Beryl remained, tacitly waving away all Lydia’s timid attempts at apology or explanation.
Could anything be better calculated to make one feel thoroughly remorseful and uncomfortable?
Lydia, however, characteristically felt more resentful than remorseful.
The tension of the situation was slightly relieved one evening, greatly to Lydia’s surprise, by Mr. Monteagle Almond.
“So you’re being sent to school, young lady?” he remarked quietly, making Lydia jump.
“Oh, am I?”