“I should be ashamed of myself if I ever spoke of it in such terms,” cried Susy, looking indignantly at her cousin as though he had abused it in that phrase. “‘Rickety brat,’ indeed! Oh, I should be ashamed. It looked so much alive—more alive, I think, than if it was in its covers. Let us sit down and read it together, Fanny.”
Cousin Edward felt that he was being badly treated between these sisters. That last remark of Susy was rather more than a suggestion that he might go as soon as it pleased him. He had not any previous experience of young women and their offspring. He could not know that their attitude in such circumstances is one of hostility to the male—that they resent his appearance as an intrusion.
“I am glad that you are so pleased,” said he, with only a trace of irritability in his voice. “And I am glad that I have been of any use to you, Cousin Fanny. After all, the thing is yours, not Susy’s.”
“That is true, indeed,” cried Fanny. “And it is I who offer you my gratitude for your help. Believe me, Eddy, I am sensible of the adroitness you have shown in this matter ever since we let you into our secret; and if any trouble comes from what we have done you may be quite sure that I will accept the entire responsibility for it.”
“Oh, so far as that goes, I do not shrink from taking my share,” said he magnanimously. “I do not feel quite without blame—I am a man and I should have warned you at the outset. But you had nearly finished it before I heard anything of it—you must not forget that.”
“That is true indeed,” said Fanny. “I was self-willed. I wonder was it vanity that impelled me. Never mind! It cannot be helped now. It may never be heard of again.”
“There’s always that to remember,” said he, with the eagerness of a drowning man grasping at a straw.
“And I believe that the chances are greatly in favour of that hope being realized. Thank you again for your encouragement, dear Eddy,” said she.
“Oh, that’s nothing—nothing worth talking about,” said he, picking up his gloves. “You can command me always, Cousin Fanny. And you have seen that I can keep a secret. Now mind you don’t leave that lying about”—he pointed to the parcel, the string of which Susy was knotting—“and, be advised by me, turn the key in the lock when you are working at it.”
“Yes,” said Susy, “we’ll be sure to do our best to prevent anyone from suspecting that we have a secret, by locking ourselves in.”