"No, father," she answered. "If I decide to go to Aunt Jane's I must buy some clothes; and if you get the money I'll never see a cent of it."
"When will you decide?" he asked.
"There's no hurry. I'll take time to think it over," she replied. "I hate Aunt Jane, of course; so if I go to her I must be a hypocrite, and pretend to like her, or she never will leave me her property.
"Well, Beth?"
"Perhaps it will be worth while; but if I go into that woman's house
I'll be acting a living lie."
"But think of the money!" said her mother.
"I do think of it. That's why I didn't tell you at once to send the check back to Aunt Jane. I'm going to think of everything before I decide. But if I go—if I allow this money to make me a hypocrite—I won't stop at trifles, I assure you. It's in my nature to be dreadfully wicked and cruel and selfish, and perhaps the money isn't worth the risk I run of becoming depraved."
"Elizabeth!"
"Good-bye; I'm late now," she continued, in the same quiet tone, and walked slowly down the walk.
The Professor twisted his moustache and looked into his wife's eyes with a half frightened glance.