“By the way, Nancy, I think I shall not need any more the mantilla you like so well. You can have it, if you like.”
“Oh, thank you, mum,” exclaimed Nancy, in surprise.
For she had never before received a present from her mistress, who was well known to be mean and penurious.
The mantilla was a handsome one, and she thanked Mrs. Ross effusively.
“There, I’ve managed her,” thought Mrs. Ross, “though at the expense of the valuable mantilla. I grudge it to her, but it is best to guard her against any of Uncle Obed’s stories, at any cost. I must get rid of him as soon as I can.”
Colonel Ross wished his wife to postpone speaking for a week, but this she was unwilling to promise. She agreed to let her uncle stay a week, but insisted on giving him notice to quit sooner.
On the morning of the third day she found her opportunity. Breakfast was over, and she left alone with the old man.
“Mr. Wilkins,” she said, “I want to have a talk with you.”
“Certainly, Lucindy, you can talk just as much as you please. But what makes you call me Mr. Wilkins? When you were a little girl, and came over with a message from your mother, it was always Uncle Obed.”
“It is so long since I have seen you that I hardly feel like speaking so familiarly,” said Mrs. Ross.