Mrs. Falconer leaned quickly, imploringly, toward her.
"Is that a threat, Amy?"
Amy waited half a minute and then began with a composure that was tinged with condescension:
"You have had so much trouble in your life, Aunt Jessica; so much sorrow."
Mrs. Falconer started and turned upon her niece her eyes that were always exquisite with refinement.
"Amy, have I ever spoken to you of the troubles of my life?" The reproof was majestic in dignity and gentleness.
"You have not."
"Then will you never speak of them to me never again—while you live!"
Amy began again with a dry practical voice, which had in it the sting of revenge; her aunt's rebuke had nettled her.
"At least, I have always been a trouble to you. You sew for me, cook for me, make the garden for me, spin and weave for me, and worry about me. Uncle has to work for me and support me."