“Yes, Aunt Sophie.”
“Oh, dearie me! I ought to be glad, but I ain’t. I had a heap rather kept you here long o’ me. And are you really going abroad, too?”
“Yes, Aunt Sophie. I cannot help going. I must.”
“Oh, dearie me! dearie me! I hope you will do well, honey. When are you going?”
“We sail in the Kron Prinz on the first of June.”
“So soon! Ah me! I shall never live to see you come back, dearie.”
“Oh, yes, you will, dear Aunt Sophie. Your good and useful life will be prolonged for many years yet.”
“Oh, how selfish I am! I ought not to think about myself, but about you. Dearie, I hope the lady you are going with will not be too hard on you. You are such a child! Is she real old and ugly?” anxiously inquired Aunt Sophie.
“Oh, no! She is young, and very, very handsome.”
“Oh, then, I hope she is not haughty and tyrannical—so many of those rich, proud beauties are. But, oh, dear, how wrong of me to talk so, to discourage you. Though I did not mean to do that. It is because I am so anxious about you, honey. Just as anxious as if you were my own dear child.”