"When?" asked Fenie in a tone that made the child tremble as she replied:
"I don't know, but I hope awful soon, 'cause then she's goin' to give me—oh, I almost told."
"Almost told what?" Fenie demanded. "Don't you know that little girls have no right to keep things secret from their mothers?"
Trixy looked up pitifully. Fenie's face, which as long as Trixy could remember, had been full of smiles and dimples, was now stern and commanding. Trixy's eyes filled with tears, but Fenie's face remained stern and unrelenting.
"You don't want me to tell lies, I hope, and be burned a whole lot after I die?" sobbed the child.
"I'd almost rather you'd tell lies than repeat some things which you think are true."
"Fenie!" exclaimed Trif. Then it was Fenie's turn to cry. Trif banished her with a look, and then began to question the child; but just outside the door stood a young woman with the air of a person determined to hear whatever was said, no matter how true might be the old saying that listeners never hear any good of themselves.
"You may keep your secret, dear, or what is left of it," said Trif, taking Trixy upon her knee. "Mamma knows that Miss Trewman was here, but you did not tell her, so don't feel bad about it. I hope, though, that you didn't forget all that's been said to you about talking about family affairs to persons whom they don't concern."
"Why, mamma dear, I wouldn't do such a dreadful thing. But Miss Trewman's brother wasn't a thing that didn't concern her, was he?"