Then Edith's clear voice broke in: "And I—I have learned from Miss Latimer lessons that will help me throughout all my life. She has been, I think, as an angel of light to us all, and I shall never forget what we owe to her goodness and love."
"I have always been going to ask some of you girls," says Dick, "if Aunt Judith knew she was likely to die in such a sudden manner. Every time I came home I had that question on my mind, and yet never managed to ask it."
Nellie replied: "Oh yes! and Aunt Debby knew also. That was why Aunt Judith lived so humbly and simply. She felt she was the mainstay of the family,—that both Aunt Debby and Aunt Meg looked to her for their livelihood; and so she strove hard to win and lay aside money, with the hope that if she were called away suddenly there would be sufficient to keep them snugly and comfortably after her death. She suffered from severe paroxysms of pain at intervals, and each attack left her weaker and feebler. Then, besides, she seemed to have had some great sorrow, though Aunt Debby never told me what it was. Oh! they missed her dreadfully at first; but since they left Dingle Cottage and came to settle down beside my father, they have been more cheerful."
"Do you like having them so near you?" inquires Edith; and Nellie answers truthfully,—
"I like being beside Aunt Debby, she helps us so much; but Aunt Meg is very trying at times."
At that moment Captain Inglis, who has been closeted with Mr. Blake in the library, enters, and then the conversation changes. The old school-days are talked over, pranks and punishments described amidst shouts of laughter; and by-and-by the talk drifts on to Ada Irvine and the prize essay.
"Have you ever heard of or seen Ada lately?" asks Dick curiously. "I suppose she is quite a young lady and a great beauty now."
"Agnes Drummond called the other day," replies Winnie quietly, "and said she had met Ada last week at a friend's house. It seems she is just as haughty and proud as ever; but, O Dick, I am sure you will be sorry when I tell you that all her beauty is gone. The whole face is completely marred by small-pox, which she caught when abroad with her father."
"Serves her jolly well right," cries Dick, the old man in his nature coming to the front. "A girl who can act as she acted deserves a righteous punishment. I don't suppose she has ever eaten humble pie to you girls yet?"
"No, and never will," puts in Nellie. "She persists to this day in saying Win gained Mr. Corbett's medal through Aunt Judith's help, and that I never learned a single lesson without assistance."