Christie listened eagerly.
“I canna tell you now,” said her sister. “See, the people are nearly all in. But I’ll come down to-night, if I can.”
At that moment a hard-featured man, a little in front, turned his sharp eyes towards them, with a look that was intended to warn and reprove; so nothing more was said.
As Annie was walking home with Christie, “I’m thinking of changing my place,” she said.
“Changing!” repeated Christie. “I thought you were quite content.”
“Oh, it’s not that. Mrs Vinton wishes it. Her younger sister is going to be married, it seems, and her mother, who is an invalid—something like Aunt Elsie, I should think—wants some one to be with her always. She lives with a son, somewhere in the far West. Miss Emma—that’s the sister—has been down. She thinks I should suit her mother, and Mrs Vinton is willing to spare me. I think I should like to go, for some things. The wages are higher.”
“But so far-away,” said Christie, in consternation; “and to leave me!”
“Yes, that’s what disturbs me. You mustna stay when I go.”
Christie shook her head. “I suppose there’s the same need of my staying now that there was before,” said she, quietly.
“But Effie was never quite willing that you should come, you know; and besides, your place is too hard for you.”