“No! Little Ethel! No!”
“I’ve got to, grandmother. I promised.”
“Ethel! You promised what?”
The girl was frankly crying now.
“Good-by, darling!” she said. “You’ve always been my dearest, kindest friend. If I hadn’t been a little beast, I’d never have[Pg 126] left you; but I am a little beast. I must go my own way. I’ve got to go. Good-by, dear!”
Her hand was on the door knob.
“No, Ethel, no!” cried the old lady.
With one backward glance, tearful, soft, but utterly resolute, the girl was gone.
“Gianetta!” called Mrs. Mazetti.
Gianetta came in from the kitchen with the querulous expression natural to her. She had been the old lady’s servant for nearly twenty years. She adored her, and had never found her anything but just, kind, and generous. Nevertheless, Gianetta had a great many grievances, and did not keep them to herself.