"She is older than you, Brenda, and I hear that she is far advanced in her studies. I dare say that she will be able to help you sometimes."
"Oh, papa! I hate to have any one help me. She'll be an awful bore, I suppose, if she thinks she knows more than me——"
"Grammar, Brenda," said her mother with a smile.
"Well, then, more than I," repeated Brenda.
"I'm sure she won't be a bore, Brenda, but her life has been very different from yours. She has led a quiet life, for you know she was her father's constant companion until he died."
Here Mrs. Barlow sighed. Julia's mother was Mrs. Barlow's sister, and had died when the little Julia was hardly five years old.
"Uncle Richard was always delicate?" ventured Brenda.
"Yes, dear, and he spent his life trying to find a place where he could gain perfect health. Boston was too bleak for him, and that is why you have not seen Julia since she was very little. Your uncle did not care to undergo the fatigue of traveling East even in the summer, and he could not bear to be parted from Julia. But she was always a sweet little thing."
"I hope you won't be disappointed in her," cried Brenda, half in a temper. "I believe you are going to care for her more than you do for me."
"Nonsense, Brenda," exclaimed her mother in surprise.