“Well, then, what makes you forget it?”
“What makes me forget—Why, child, what a question! What do you mean? I don't forget it!” exclaimed Billy, indignantly.
“Then what did mother mean? I heard her tell Uncle William myself—she didn't know I heard, though—that she did wish you'd remember you were Uncle Bertram's wife as well as Cousin Bertram's mother.”
Billy flushed scarlet, then grew very white. At that moment Mrs. Hartwell came into the room. Little Kate turned triumphantly.
“There, she hasn't forgotten, and I knew she hadn't, mother! I asked her just now, and she said she hadn't.”
“Hadn't what?” questioned Mrs. Hartwell, looking a little apprehensively at her sister-in-law's white face and angry eyes.
“Hadn't forgotten that she was Uncle Bertram's wife.”
“Kate,” interposed Billy, steadily meeting her sister-in-law's gaze, “will you be good enough to tell me what this child is talking about?”
Mrs. Hartwell sighed, and gave an impatient gesture.
“Kate, I've a mind to take you home on the next train,” she said to her daughter. “Run away, now, down-stairs. Your Aunt Billy and I want to talk. Come, come, hurry! I mean what I say,” she added warningly, as she saw unmistakable signs of rebellion on the small young face.