"My dear Miss Sophy!" exclaimed Nellie.
"Don't listen to that child. She is in a nasty cross mood—and somebody has been teaching her to swear. I took a fancy to Westminster Abbey when I was quite young, and, even if it is rather expensive, I should like to treat myself to a grave there."
"I'll see to it," George promised.
"You shouldn't say such a wicked thing," cried Nellie.
"Are you suffering at all, Aunt?" he inquired, anxious to change the subject.
"I don't think so," said Miss Yard. "It's all going to be wonderfully peaceful. I'm so thankful!"
"Shall I ask the vicar to call?" George whispered.
"Of course not," said Nellie fretfully. "She would think he had come to prepare her. I am very sorry you sent for the doctor. Here's another beastly wasp! Do kill it."
"Is she packing my clothes?" whispered Miss Yard, peering over the bedspread.
"No, and I'm not going to," replied the young rebel.