"Yes, and sometimes I almost wish she didn't," said Ethel. "I feel sometimes very much as if I should like to say, 'Aunt Sally, you may just keep your presents to yourself,' when she has made one of her provoking speeches."
Abby laughed. "Why, Ethel, the presents are just as good, and one need not mind what she says: I don't. Father says we must not get out of patience with her, because she is as rich as a Jew, and can leave her money to any one she pleases."
Ethel made no answer. In this speech, as in many of her cousin's remarks, there was something that grated on her feelings, and she was glad to be spared the necessity of a reply, by their arrival at the door of a house, which bore upon it the name of Mrs. Sarah Bertie.
If days should teach, Mrs. Bertie ought to have been very wise, for she was a very old lady, though she would hardly have thanked any one for telling her so. But the years which had passed over her head had only added to her self-esteem, without increasing her wisdom, and she was now, at seventy-nine, as self-willed, exacting, unreasonable, and petulant, as she had been at fifteen.
She had the misfortune to be the only child of very rich parents, who found it less trouble to humor her in every whim, than to control and regulate her naturally troublesome temper. They found it any thing but a saving of trouble in the end. True, her mother was spared a great deal of trouble by dying when her darling was about fourteen; but her father's death was supposed to be hastened by the perverse conduct of his daughter, who at fifteen ran away with her own cousin, a reckless, wild young man, who having spent all his own money, was desirous of continuing his career of pleasure by spending his cousin's. Mr. Bertie died suddenly, a few months after this marriage, without seeing his daughter, to whom he bequeathed his whole estate, taking care, however, so to arrange matters, that she should enjoy only the income of her property, the principal being tied up beyond the reach of herself or her husband. This was a great disappointment to the latter, and did not tend to sweeten his temper, or make him more patient with the whims and caprices of his young wife, who expected her husband to be her slave as her parents had been.
The result was, that after some years of strife and bitterness, the ill-matched pair separated, and Mr. Bertie went to Europe, where he died not very long after. Mrs. Bertie did not pretend to afflict herself greatly upon that event. She had no children or other incumbrance to prevent her from doing as she pleased, and after travelling about for some years, she finally settled herself down in one of the smaller northern cities, bought a handsome house, and commenced housekeeping in good style.
As she could always be very pleasant when she pleased, she had plenty of society, and her wealth caused her to be very much courted, especially by her husband's nephew, Mr. Coles, Abby's father. Mr. Coles and Mr. Fletcher were cousins, and the families were intimate from that circumstance, though there was between them a great difference, not only of sentiment, but of principle. With all her faults, Mrs. Bertie had some sterling good qualities. She was a warm and generous friend, and a good neighbor and mistress, and her sense of integrity and truthfulness was extreme almost to a fault.
She was sitting in her parlor knitting, with her dog at her feet, as the girls entered, and being in a good-humor, received them graciously.
"And what work are you doing for Christmas?" she inquired, after Ethel had delivered her message. "I shall expect to see something very handsome from you, Ethel, as you have improved so much in working the last year."
"I have not commenced any thing yet, Aunt Sally," replied Ethel.