"That really was dear of you, Aunt Julia," confided Genevieve some time later, after the girls had gone, and when she and Mrs. Kennedy were alone together. (Miss Jane had gone up-stairs.) "Only think of the pains they took—to get themselves up to look so pretty, besides learning to give that yell so finely. I was so afraid they'd be hurt at what Miss Jane said! And I wouldn't want them hurt—after all that!"
"Of course you wouldn't," smiled Mrs. Kennedy; "and my sister wouldn't either, dear."
Genevieve stirred restlessly.
"I know she wouldn't, Aunt Julia; but—but the girls don't know it. They—they don't understand Miss Jane."
"And do you—always?" The question was gently put, but its meaning was unmistakable.
Genevieve colored.
"Maybe not—quite always; but—Miss Jane is so—so shockable!"
Mrs. Kennedy made a sudden movement. Apparently she only stooped to pick up a small thread from the floor, but when she came upright her face was a deeper red than just that exertion would seem to occasion.
"Genevieve, have you been to your room since you came home?" she asked. There were times when Mrs. Kennedy could change the subject almost as abruptly as could Genevieve herself.
"No, Aunt Julia. You know Nancy carried up my suit-case, and I've been too busy telling you all about my visit to think of anything else."