Liza stood with her mouth open, listening to her mother’s retiring footsteps; and then with a fresh burst of tears waiting to be wiped away, she ran in to answer the bell, and clear away, shivering the while, as she saw that Aunt Marguerite’s eyes were fixed upon her, watching every movement, and seeming to threaten to reveal what had been discovered earlier in the day.
Aunt Marguerite said nothing, however, then, for her thoughts were taken up with her project of living away for a time. She had been talking away pretty rapidly, first to one and then to the other, but rarely eliciting a reply; but at last she turned sharply upon her brother.
“How soon shall we be going, George?”
“Going? Where?” he replied dreamily.
“On the Continent for our change.”
“We shall not go on the Continent, Marguerite,” he said gravely. “I shall not think of leaving here.”
Aunt Marguerite rose from the table, and gazed at her brother, as if not sure that she had heard aright. Then she turned to her niece, to look at her with questioning eyes, but to gain no information there, for Louise bent down over the work she had taken from a stand.
“Did you understand what your father said?” she asked sharply.
“Yes, aunt.”
“And pray what did he say?”