“Well, yes, if it is of the proper shade, auntie, but you know nothing becomes you so well as black.”
“Black it shall be, then—black panama, with a nice new bonnet to match.”
“And I, auntie, dear, what shall I wear? How are we to afford all these fine things when our finances are at a low ebb?”
“Our finances are in better condition than they were, dear. A letter a few days since from my lawyers, states that certain property I have placed in their hands is rapidly increasing in value, and that I shall be able to realize from time to time such sums as I may need.”
“Oh, I’m so glad! Strange you didn’t tell me.”
“I’d forgotten it. I really believe I am getting absent-minded.”
Had Dorothy known the truth—that though the lawyers had agreed to advance certain sums, it meant a mortgage on old Bellvieu, her peace of mind would have been sadly disturbed.
But Aunt Betty took good care she did not know it—self-sacrificing soul that she was.