The glimmer of a smile flitted across Read’s calm mouth.
“You are a young lady from Tasmania, niece to the Squire, and you have come over here to be educated with Miss Audrey—bless her!”
“Is that all you know!” said Evelyn. “Then I will tell you more. There will come a day when your Miss Audrey will have nothing to do with the Castle, and when I shall have everything to do with it. I am to be mistress here any day, whenever my uncle dies.”
“My dear Miss Wynford, don’t speak like that! The Squire is safe to live, Providence permitting, for many a long year.”
Evelyn sat down again.
“I think my aunt, Lady Frances, one of the cruellest women in the world,” she continued. “Now you know what I think, and you can tell her, you nasty cross-patch. You can go away and tell her at once. I longed to say so to her face when I was out driving to-day, but she has got the upper hand of me, although she is not going to keep it. I don’t want you to help me; I hate you nearly as much as I hate her!”
Read looked as though she did not hear a single remark that Evelyn made. She crossed the room, and presently returned with a can of hot water and poured some into a basin.
“Now, miss,” she said, “if you will wash your face and hands, I will arrange your hair.”
There was something in her tone which reduced Evelyn to silence.
“Did you not hear what I said?” she remarked after a minute.