She spoke in a low tone, and her pretty eyelashes rested on her softly rounded cheeks.
Maggie looked at her. “Why did you bring me up here, Aneta, away from all the others, away from our important business, to give me this letter?”
“I thought you would rather have it in private,” said Aneta.
“You thought more than that, Aneta.”
“Yes, I thought more than that,” said Aneta in her gentlest tone.
Maggie’s queer, narrow, eyes flashed fire. Suddenly she stood up. “You have something to say. Say it, and be quick, for I must go.”
“I don’t think you must go just yet, Maggie; for what I have to say cannot be said in a minute. You will have to give up your leisure hours to-day.”
“I cannot. Our entertainment is on Saturday.”
“The entertainment must wait,” said Aneta. “It is of no consequence compared to what I have to say to you.”
“Oh, have it out!” said Maggie. “You were always spying and prying on me. You always hated me. I don’t know what I have done to you. I’d have left you alone if you had left me alone; but you have interfered with me and made my life miserable. God knows, I am not too happy”—Maggie struggled with her emotion—“but you have made things twice as bad.”