"The step matters little," she retorted, "as long as you feel as if you were going to your own funeral. I agree with Miss Burton, that growing old is worse than being old, thought Heaven knows that both are bad enough."
"I'm not sure that Heaven would agree with either of us," said Miss
Burton, gently.
"I fear the sermon did not do you much good, Coz," said Stanton, maliciously.
"No; it did not. It did me harm, if such a thing were possible," was the reckless reply.
"Human nature is generally regarded as capable of improvement," remarked Stanton, sententiously.
"I was not speaking of human nature generally," said Ida; "I was thinking of myself."
"As usual, my charming Cousin."
She flushed resentfully, but did not reply.
"And I feel that Miss Mayhew has done herself injustice in her thought," said Miss Burton, with a sympathetic glance at Ida. "And how is it with you, Mr. Van Berg? Do you dread growing old?"
"I fear my opinion will remind you of Jack Bunsby," replied the artist. "Growing old is like a prospective journey. So much depends upon the country through which you travel and your company. My father and mother are taking a summer excursion through Norway and Sweden, and I know they are enjoying themselves abundantly. They have had a good time growing old. Why should not others?"