“I hope you don’t think, Harriet,” said Aggie, disregarding her niece, “that I’m complaining—I—”
Mrs. Trenchard leant towards her, holding out the thread of green silk!
“That must be from your silks, Aggie dear,” she said. “It’s just the colour of your parrot’s tail. I couldn’t think what it was, lying there on the carpet.”
It was then that Katherine, who had paid no attention to this little conversation but had followed her own thoughts, said:
“Oh! how careless of me! I never took Henry’s book, after all—and I went right up Oxford Street too!”
This was unfortunate, because it reminded Aunt Aggie of something that she had very nearly forgotten. Of course Katherine had never intended to take the book—she had simply offered to do so because she thought her Aunt old, feeble, and incapable.
“Really, Katherine,” said Aunt Aggie, “you might have let me take it after all. I may be useless in most ways and not worth anyone’s consideration, but at least I’m still able to walk up Oxford Street in safety!”
Her aunt’s tones were so bitter that Katherine looked across at her in some dismay.
Aunt Betty did not assist the affair by saying:
“Why, Aggie dear, who ever supposed you couldn’t; I’m sure you can do anything you want to!”