"And you had better go, Elma, and be quick about it," said Carrie, giving her a warning glance.
"I don't know what all this means," said Elma, her heart beating uncomfortably fast; "but I had better go in and see Aunt Charlotte."
"Yes, my love, yes; and while you are talking to her I—What do you say, Carrie—you and I might go out upon that little matter of business, might we not?"
"To be sure, mother; an excellent thought. If you stay here I'll run upstairs and fetch your bonnet, veil, and mantle in a twinkling. Go in to Aunt Charlotte, Elma; do, for goodness sake, make yourself of use. More depends on it than you think. If she hears us whispering and mattering in the hall she'll be out upon us."
Elma instinctively put up her two hands to smooth back her hair, she straightened her already perfectly neat little jacket, and, drawing herself up to her full petite height, entered the little dining-room.
Elma was a perfect contrast to her untidy mother and her frowzy sister. However poorly dressed, she was always the pink of neatness. She was full of agitation now and nervous fear, but not a trace of these emotions could be visible in her manner and appearance. She went up to her Aunt Charlotte, who for her part held out both her arms and, drawing the girl down, printed a kiss upon her cheek.
"I am really glad to see you, Elma," exclaimed Mrs. Steward. "Sit near me, my dear; it is a pity you were not in when I arrived. It was the least you might have done for your aunt, Elma. You had my letter this morning. Oh, my poor child, I have gone through a dreadful hour! These vulgar relations of yours grow worse and worse."
"My mother and sister?" murmured Elma.
"Yes; it is a terrible affliction for you. But, my dear, I am going to relieve you from the strain. I, your aunt, am coming to the rescue. There, Elma, pour me out another cup of tea, and I will tell you everything."
Elma raised the teapot, she filled her aunt's cup with fresh tea, added a little milk, and brought it to her side.