“Then you are pretty sure to do it.”
“But why did she not—” I was afraid to go on.
“Why did she not keep her word? You can ask her if you want to know. Don’t say I wanted to know, that’s all. I don’t.”
“But how was it, Aunt Kezia?” said I, for I was on fire with curiosity. Flora made an attempt to check me.
“You are both welcome to know all I know,” said my Aunt: “and that is, that she spent one evening at the Fells with us, and the Hebblethwaites and Mr Parmenter were there: the next day we saw nothing of her, and on the evening of the third there came a little note to me—a dainty little pink three-cornered note, all over perfume—in which Miss Cecilia Osborne presented her compliments to Mrs Kezia Courtenay, and begged to say that she found herself obliged to go to London, and would have set out before the note should reach me. That is as much as I know, and more than I want to know.”
“And she did not say when she was coming back?”
“Not in any hurry, I fancy,” said my Aunt Kezia, grimly.
“Going to stop away altogether?”
“She’s welcome,” answered my Aunt, in the same tone.
“Then who will live at Fir Vale?” asked Flora.