“I have lived for ten years under your roof, and have had no communication, as you say, with Rebecca. I think it is only fair now that I should show her some attention. I have accordingly installed her as mistress of my house in Madison Avenue, and shall henceforth make my home with her.”
Mrs. Pitkin felt as if the earth was sinking under her feet. The hopes and schemes of so many years had come to naught, and her hated and dreaded cousin was to be constantly in the society of the rich uncle.
“Rebecca has played her cards well,” she said bitterly.
“She has not played them at all. She did not seek me. I sought her.”
“How did you know she was in the city?”
“I learned it from—Philip!”
There was fresh dismay.
“So that boy has wormed his way into your confidence!” said Mrs. Pitkin bitterly. “After acting so badly that Mr. Pitkin was obliged to discharge him, he ran to you to do us a mischief.”
“Why was he discharged?” demanded Mr. Carter sternly. “Why did your husband seize the opportunity to get rid of a boy in whom he knew me to be interested as soon as he thought I was out of the way? Why, moreover, did he refuse the boy a reference, without which Philip could scarcely hope to get employment?”
“You will have to ask Mr. Pitkin. I am sure he had good reason for the course he took. He's an impudent, low upstart in my opinion.”