“That was my first plan, but Uncle showed me that it was wiser not make genteel paupers of them, but let them pay a small rent and feel independent. I don't want the money, of course, and shall use it in keeping the houses tidy or helping other women in like case,” said Rose, entirely ignoring her cousin's covert ridicule.
“Don't expect any gratitude, for you won't get it; nor much comfort with a lot of forlornities on your hands, and be sure that when it is too late you will tire of it all and wish you had done as other people do.”
“Thanks for your cheerful prophecies, but I think I'll venture.”
She looked so undaunted that Charlie was a little nettled and fired his last shot rather recklessly: “Well, one thing I do know you'll never get a husband if you go on in this absurd way, and by Jove! you need one to take care of you and keep the property together!”
Rose had a temper, but seldom let it get the better of her; now, however, it flashed up for a moment. Those last words were peculiarly unfortunate, because Aunt Clara had used them more than once when warning her against impecunious suitors and generous projects. She was disappointed in her cousin, annoyed at having her little plans laughed at, and indignant with him for his final suggestion.
“I'll never have one, if I must give up the liberty of doing what I know is right, and I'd rather go into the poorhouse tomorrow than 'keep the property together' in the selfish way you mean!”
That was all but Charlie saw that he had gone too far and hastened to make his peace with the skill of a lover, for, turning to the little cabinet piano behind him, he sang in his best style the sweet old song:
“Oh were thou in the cauld blast,”
dwelling with great effect, not only upon the tender assurance that “My plaid should shelter thee,”
but also that, even if a king,