“Good morning, Elly. Many happy returns!” answered Betsy, without any expression.
Eline would not say more; first the servant must leave the room. Breakfast she did not want; she had no appetite.
“Grete, you can clear away, I don’t want anything,” she said, and began playing with Ben to do something.
Betsy remained seated in front of her writing-desk, absorbed in bills and books, like a careful housewife. And after a few seconds’ painful silence, Betsy having peevishly told Ben not to worry, and sent him away to the nursery, Eline rose. She walked across the room to her sister, and laid her hand on her shoulder.
“Betsy,” she commenced. But she could not yet bring herself to say anything about the present, the diamond spider. “Betsy, come, would it not be better if—? You don’t know how sorry I am that we are so. Come, now, don’t be angry with me, it was wrong of me.”
“Well, Eline, I am glad you admit it. I am not angry.”
“Is it all forgotten then?”
“Oh, certainly. You know there’s nothing I dislike more than unpleasantness, so let us say no more about it.”
Her cool tone was as so much ice to Eline, but still she bent down and gave Betsy a kiss.
“No, really, I am sorry; of course I have no right in your own house—it pains me very much.”