"I used to think I worked hard at home; and so I did," continued Mrs. Train; "but, at any rate, I had the comfort of what I did. I had my own way, and nobody interfered with me. But now I work like a slave from morning till night, doing what no one else wants to do, and, after all, I get no thanks for it. I brought Agnes up like a lady," she continued, wiping her eyes: "I never let her put her hands to a bit of hard work. I laboured day and night that she might have advantages,—that she might go to school and dress and appear like a lady; and what is the consequence? She looks down upon her old mother, and wants to keep her out of sight. She grudges me decent clothes,—though she has the use of all my little income, and expects me to do all the work that Mary can't or won't do."
"You know I always disliked the idea of your putting your property out of your own hands," said John.
"I know," said Mrs. Train. "You were right; and I was an old fool,—that is all."
"But, aunt, if you are so uncomfortable, why not take lodgings of your own?" asked Letty. "Mrs. Mercer, next door, has a nice, large front room and bedroom which she would like to rent. She is a very good woman, and there would be no children to annoy you, except poor little Harry, who is no trouble to any one. Then you would be near us; and we could see that you were comfortable. John would attend to your coal, and all that, and I would help you a great deal."
Mrs. Train shook her head. "It wouldn't do, Letty. Thank you all the same; but it would not do. You see, I cannot work at fine sewing as I used to, and my little income is not enough to support me without my house. And, besides, there is poor Madge. What would become of her without granny?"
"True," replied Letty. "She could hardly spare you, I suppose."
"No, no," said Mrs. Train. "There is no help for it now. I have made my bed, and I must lie in it: that is all. I don't like to ask you to come and see me, Letty, after all that has passed; but I shall always think of you kindly. Good-by; and God bless you!"
"Poor aunt!" said Letty, as she closed the door. "I do wish she could be made more comfortable."
"I don't see how it can be done at present," replied John. "If it were not for Madge, we might ask her here; but what would become of the child?"
"My stepmother used to say, long ago, that aunt was laying up trouble for herself by the way she brought up Agnes," said Letty. "She said what I believe to be true,—that spoiled children never are grateful to those who spoil them. I have more than once seen aunt hanging out clothes or sifting ashes on a freezing day, while Agnes was hanging over the fire with a story-book or some nonsensical piece of embroidery.