"Oh, please do, I am just in the humor for it."
"You may be, but I am not," Jean returned curtly.
"What in the world has come over you?" asked Nathalie bluntly. "I never knew anyone's disposition to become as uncertain and irritable as yours has lately."
"Why don't you let me alone, then? My temper may be growing bad, but yours has never been anything else."
Nathalie shrugged her shoulders, and laughing shortly, went on her way without another word.
When the door had closed on her, Jean slipped down on the floor and, burying her face in Aunt Helen's lap, sobbed convulsively.
"I don't know what is the matter with me," she faltered. "I am so cross and irritable lately. Everything seems to set my nerves on edge. I never used to feel so."
Aunt Helen passed her thin hand soothingly over the girl's bent head.
"Don't worry about it, dearie. Of course you did not mean to speak so. You are tired and unstrung to-day."
By and by Jean's sobs grew less frequent, then ceased altogether. She lifted her head, and, resting her arm on Aunt Helen's knee, dropped her chin in her hand, and stared absently before her. All trace of emotion had left her face, and it now wore an expression of utter weariness and dejection. Her aunt looked thoughtfully down at her. Had it been either Helen or Nathalie who had thus given way it would not have troubled her, but proud little Jean was too reserved and self-contained to break down unless she had been very sorely tried. The silence had lasted some few moments when Aunt Helen again spoke.