"What about it?" asked Donald, with sudden interest. "What was the text?"
"I can't tell you; I didn't listen. You had better ask Josephine. She was very attentive; I believe she heard every word."
"Where is she now?"
"In her bedroom. I heard voices as I passed the door—hers and Jane's. Oh, here she is! Take this chair by the fire, Josephine."
Josephine obeyed. There was a faint flush on her pale cheeks, and her eyes were very bright.
"I've been talking to Jane," she said; "she's been telling me about her aunt who lives in that cottage near the town—"
"What, Mrs. Rumbelow?" interrupted May. "Oh, I didn't know she was Jane's aunt! What does Jane say about her?"
"She says she suffers badly from rheumatism—that's what makes her so bent. Sometimes she can scarcely move for days together, and the pain is dreadful. Yet she never complains. I think that's so brave of her, don't you?"
The twins agreed, and Josephine continued—
"Jane says her aunt has had a lot of trouble in her life. Her husband died, after years of sickness during which she had to work hard as a charwoman to support him; and then her son, her only child, turned out badly—she thinks he's in Canada now, but she hasn't heard from him for ever so long. Oh, isn't it cruel of him not to write to her?"