“Whether you buy things or not, Eileen, do come with me,” said Lettie. “I don’t know my way to the Broad at present, and would rather be with you than alone. Whatever you may do in the future, please remember that I am your first cousin, almost your sister, and we have lived together all our lives.”
“Of course, dear Lettie, we will both come,” said Eileen. “Belle, we will visit you another day; we are only interrupting your work now.”
“I was resting when you arrived,” said Belle. She threw herself tragically back against one of the hard-bottomed chairs. “Go—yes go; I don’t expect to see much of any of you. It is the fate of those who would explore, who would delve in the mines of the past, to bring up diamonds alone; we are solitary in our labor. I had a hope, it is true, when I saw you in London; but never mind. Go, all of you; there is the door—go!”
“I wish you’d let me mend your dress first,” said Lettie, whipping a neat little housewife out of her pocket and preparing to thread a needle.
“Mend my dress?” said Belle. “What do you mean?”
“If you will just stand with your back to the light, you can go on thinking and talking; I won’t be a minute sewing up that awful rent. You are not respectable as you are. Now, do let me.”
“Yes, do, Belle; don’t be a goose,” said Marjorie.
Belle’s eyes flashed. Lettie was already attacking her with needle and thread. The rent was presently sewn up.
“I tell you what it is,” said Lettie good-humoredly, “I’m not half such a bad soul as you make me out. Now that I happen to be in the same hall——”
Belle shivered.