"Well, that was merely asking you a question. I never advised you not to—you know I did not."
"But—I thought—I thought—"
Felicia paused, her face twitching with emotion, a sensation of indignation against her cousin in her heart. She saw now that Doris would not be sorry if she got into trouble with her grandfather.
"Why are you so unkind to me, Doris?" she demanded at length in a pained tone. "I have done you no harm, but yet you dislike me. We are never alone without you say things to hurt me. Is it because Molly and I are friends? Oh, surely you need not be jealous on that account!"
"And do you think I am jealous of you?" Doris asked, her usual reserve of manner deserting her as she realised her cousin had discovered the truth; "of you," she went on scornfully, "who have been accustomed to live in a garret in a common lodging-house? They are right when they call you a ditch flower—"
She stopped, cowed by the flash in her cousin's blue eyes, and turned away with a short, embarrassed laugh, and a shamed expression crossing her face; whilst Felicia with difficulty restrained the passionate words which rushed to her lips, and wisely held her peace.
[CHAPTER XVII]
An Anxious Sunday
IT was a lovely Sunday afternoon in September, with a fresh, sweet air stirring the yellowing leaves of the tall, elm trees which grew near the lake in the Priory grounds, around which Felicia wandered disconsolately, watching the ducks and swans disporting themselves in the water. Her heart was very heavy, for Uncle Guy was ill, suffering from one of the acute attacks of pain to which he was subject on occasions; and her grandfather had spent all the day, so far, in his son's room, which latter fact alarmed the little girl and made her guess the truth, that the invalid was far worse than usual. The doctor had been at the Priory during the morning, but he could do little to ease the sufferings of his patient.
"The pain will just wear itself out," Mrs. Price had said to Felicia in answer to her eager questions, "and by-and-by it will leave him weak and helpless as a baby almost. Poor Mr. Guy!"