"It is very sad to be old and poor, and especially for one who has led a noble and self-sacrificing life—"
"She ought to have considered herself," Mrs. Marsh broke in tartly, "and so I've reminded her. I've written and advised her to stay where she is, in London; I suppose she must have some friends there. I think she would be foolish to come to Beaworthy, anyway. Well, I really must go; I only came to show you Cousin Becky's letter, Martin. Good-bye, children. Good-bye, Mary. You're looking very pale, you ought to get out more." And Mrs. Marsh rustled out of the room followed by her brother.
The mother and children stood at the window and watched Mr. Trent assist his sister into the carriage and wrap the fur rug around her.
"Why doesn't she take you for a drive with her, sometimes, mother?" said Polly in a tone of dissatisfaction. She regarded her mother attentively as she spoke, and a pang of pain shot through her loving heart as she saw that Mrs. Trent was indeed very pale. "It's all very well to say you ought to get out more, but—oh, I wish we had a carriage for you to drive out in when the roads and streets are muddy, and—"
"Don't let your father hear you say anything like that," Mrs. Trent interposed hurriedly. "You need not trouble because I am pale—I always am, you know. There! Your aunt's gone; and now run and tell Louisa to bring in tea."
Polly obeyed, and by the time Louisa—the maid-of-all-work—had done her bidding, Mr. Trent had changed his coat for the older one he always wore at home in the evenings, and had returned to the sitting-room. During the meal which followed, Roger told his father how he had feared his aunt had come on another errand; and though Mr. Trent chided his son for having lost his temper and struck his cousin, he sympathised with the indignation which had caused him to act so impetuously.
"I should be sorry for you to be really at enmity with Edgar," he said gravely, "so I hope you will try to make peace with him to-morrow. His cruelty was probably the result of thoughtlessness, but it ought to be checked."
"Aunt Janie never thinks he does wrong," declared Polly. "And, oh, father, don't you consider it's very strange she doesn't want Cousin Becky to visit her?" she added eagerly.
"Yes, Polly, I do," Mr. Trent admitted with a glance at his wife. "I only wish we were better off so that we could ask Cousin Becky here, but I suppose it's not to be thought of under present circumstances."
"Why not, father?" asked Roger. "Do you think she would not like to come—that she would not like our house?"