"I know it is; but I can't afford a better skirt. Mother is rather worried about money just now. I know I oughtn't to tell you, but she is. And, do you know, before you came in Aunt Church was so horrid. She got quite dreadful about the blouse, and she tried to make out that I had stolen the money from mother to buy it. Wasn't it awful of her? I can tell you it was a blessing when you came in. You changed her altogether. What did you do to her?"
"Well," said Kathleen, "I rather like old ladies, and she struck me as something picturesque."
"She's a horrid old thing, and not a bit picturesque. I hate her like poison."
"That is very wrong of you, Susy. Some day you will get old yourself, and you won't like people to hate you."
"Well, that's a long way off; I needn't worry about it yet," cried Susy. "I do hate her very much indeed. And then, you know, when you appeared she began to butter me up like anything. I hated that the worst of all."
"I am sorry she is that sort of old lady," said Kathleen after a pause; "but I have promised to try and get her into one of our almshouses. It would be rare fun to have her there."
"But she is not a bit poor. She oughtn't to go into an almshouse if she is rich," said Susy.
"Of course she mustn't go into an almshouse if she is rich; but she doesn't look rich."
"She is quite rich. I think she has saved three hundred pounds. You must call that rich."
"I'm afraid I don't," said Kathleen.