Fanny, who was alone with Mr. Pirie at the moment, went willingly, and they sat down on one of the sofas at the end of the long hall.
“Now let me really look at you. Yes, you look like Fawcett. Do you remember your father?”
“How could I? I was only three when he died.”
“And now you are eighteen! I cannot take it in. I believe I have always thought of you as a baby.”
“Oh, do you think Granny’ll let me go back with you? She hates the world and despises men—as if they were all alike! But at least—Oh, please swear, dear Aunt—Julia—that you will help me to play a bit while you’re here. You can’t fancy how dull I am. I want to come to Bath House every day, and dance every night. You can tell Granny that Mrs. Morison is an old friend of yours, and has come to Nevis to see you. Of course Granny’ll let me go anywhere with you.”
“Poor mother!”
“Oh, she’s had her own way all her life; just what I’d like to have. Please pity me, Julia. Why, I might marry if I ever had a chance to see a man nearer than through a field-glass. The war-ships that I’ve seen come and go in this roadstead! And the St. Kitts girls dancing on them! But I! I might as well be one of those Dutch women in the crater of St. Batts, making drawn-work from one year’s end to the other.”
“Poor child! You may be sure I’ll do all I can. But—ah—” Julia felt quite the aunt for a moment. “Don’t be in such a hurry to marry.”
“But I am in a hurry to marry. That’s the only road out of Nevis. And what girl isn’t in a hurry to marry? If Granny wouldn’t give her consent, well—I’d just love to elope.”
Julia laughed. “If you are as romantic as that, I must manage that you see a good bit of the world before you enter the somewhat prosaic state of matrimony —”