“He is well too, thank you. He has a funeral this afternoon.”
“I think you have two sisters, have you not?”
“Yes; Adelaide and Stella.”
“And which are you?”
“May; I am the second one.”
All her questions were put in an almost severe tone, and not as if she took very much interest in me or mine. I felt my timidity increase, and yet—I liked her. Yes, I felt most distinctly that I liked her.
“May,” she remarked, meditatively; “May Wedderburn. Are you aware that you have a very pretty north-country sounding name?”
“I have not thought about it.”
“How old are you?”
“I am a little over seventeen.”