"I don't want his money," said Una with great spirit, "and certainly don't care about speculating on cousin Garsworth's death to gain it. I wonder at your doing so, Aunt."
"Well, I'm sure, Una," whimpered Miss Cassy, producing her handkerchief, "you are so odd--I only meant to say I'm tired of this place--it is dull--now isn't it? I need excitement, you know I need excitement--and after me bringing you up. I always dressed you beautifully--real lace--and kept you so clean. I always had your nerves attended to--you blame me now--I want to see you rich--it isn't odd--wishing to see you rich, and I'm so dull here; really Una, you are unkind--quite crushing--I'm only an ivy--oh, why wasn't I married? there's nothing for one to cling to--you don't want me to cling."
"My dear Auntie," said Una with a smile, "you are so sensitive."
"Ivy," sobbed Miss Cassy, "nerves--mother's side--you've got none--so very odd."
"I don't want you to think of the Squire dying, it won't benefit me at all."
Miss Cassy removed her handkerchief and gasped:
"Quite ten thousand a year--he can't take it away--you're his only relative--no one could be so odd as to leave it to a what's-it's-name asylum or a cats'-home."
"I don't know whom he'll leave the money to," said Una deliberately. "I certainly ought to get it, but you know the Squire's delusion about re-incarnation--you may depend his will is mixed up with the idea, how I don't know--but there will be some trouble at his death."
"Such an idiot he is," groaned Miss Cassy, "quite eccentric--hereditary--I've seen it in you--bad blood you know--it's in all old families--our family was always sane."
To prove which sanity Miss Cassy arose from the table to go to her room, and placed the tea cosy on her head to protect her from cold. The eccentric lady walked to the door talking in a broken fashion all the time.