Minnie scanned me over in surprise.
“Well, how you ARE altered, Una!” she cried. “I love you, dear, and like you every bit as much as ever. But you’ve changed so much. I don’t think you’re at all what you used to be. You’re so grave and sombre.”
“No wonder, Minnie,” I exclaimed, bursting gladly into tears—the excuse was such a relief—“no wonder, when you think how much I’ve passed through!”
Minnie flung her arms around my neck, and kissed me over and over again.
“Oh, dear!” she cried, melting. “What have I done? What have I said? I ought never to have spoken so. It was cruel of me—cruel, Una dear. I shall stop here to-night, and sleep with you.”
“Oh, thank you, darling!” I cried. “Minnie, that IS good of you. I’m so awfully glad. For to-morrow I must be thinking of getting ready for Canada.”
“Canada!” Minnie exclaimed, alarmed. “You’re not really going to Canada! Oh, Una, you’re joking! You don’t mean to say you’re going out there to find him!”
I took her hand in mine, and held it up in the air above her head solemnly.
“Dear cousin,” I said, “I love you. But you must promise me this one thing. Whatever may happen, give me your sacred word of honour you’ll never tell anybody what we’ve said here to-night. You’ll kill me if you do. I don’t want any living soul on earth to know of it.”
I spoke so seriously, Minnie felt it was important.