"I was going to ask what the servants will think."
"I do not know what they will think, Aunt Betsy."
"On that point I must appeal to your father," "Aunt Betsy" replied.
"On that point it is very dangerous for you to appeal," answered the younger woman, still preserving an extraordinary calm that was at once astonishing and alarming to her aunt, but speaking with a degree of emphasis that suggested something behind the words.
"What do you mean? Explain yourself," said "Aunt Betsy," in that authoritative tone which she had all her life employed in addressing her niece.
"I will explain if you wish," Margaret answered; "but I'd rather spare you the explanation."
"I insist upon knowing what you mean," the elder woman unwisely replied.
"Very well, then; you shall hear. In addition to the wrong you have done me, wrecking my life and placing me in a grievously false position; in addition to the wrong you have done to another, you have been guilty of the crime of robbing the United States mails, Aunt Betsy, and as the minimum penalty of that crime is a long term in prison, I do not think it wise of you to suggest appeals in this case. It will be better, I think, to accept my decision as final."
