“Oh, Lily, surely you wouldn’t go away. What should I ever do without you?” said Archie, weeping.
“Whisht, Archie,” said his sister, soothingly; “do you think I would like to go away from you? But if it is right, we mustn’t think whether it is pleasant or not. We won’t grieve before the time, however. Maybe I’ll never have to go. We’ll speak to Aunt Janet.”
And so that night, after Archie was asleep, Lilias spoke to her aunt.
“Are you weary of me, Lilias, that you wish to leave me so soon?” asked her aunt, gravely.
“Oh, aunt, you cannot think that. If it were only not wrong for me to bide here always!”
“And why do you not think it right to bide here always?” asked her aunt.
“Because I am young and strong, and I ought to be working for you, rather than that you should be doing so much for me.”
“But you have been working for me. You have helped me greatly since you came here.”
“Yes, a little, perhaps,” said Lilias, thoughtfully. “But that’s not what I mean. Are you not very poor now, Aunt Janet?”
“Well, I cannot say that I am very rich,” said her aunt, smiling. “But I’m not so poor but that I can shelter my brother’s orphan bairns for a while at least.” And then she added, gravely, “I have no doubt but you could make yourself very useful, and I dare say Mrs Graham would like to have you there; but there are many reasons why such a thing is not to be thought of.”