"Then, where shall I keep the linen press?"
"Can't it stand in the back entry? I should think the space between the windows would accommodate it."
"I suppose it must," said Mrs. Ellis, flouncing out of the room, and muttering to herself, "everything turned topsy-turvy for the sake of that little upstart!"
Mrs. Ellis was vexed. She had long had her own way in the management of all household matters at Mr. Graham's, and had become rather tyrannical. She was capable, methodical, and neat; accustomed to a small family, and now for many years quite unaccustomed to children; Gertrude was in her eyes an intruder—one who must of necessity be in mischief, continually deranging her most cherished plans.
She saw in the new inmate a formidable rival to herself in Miss Graham's affections; and Mrs. Ellis could not brook the idea of being second in the regard of Miss Emily, who, owing to her peculiar misfortune, and to her delicate health, had long been her special charge, and for whom she felt the greatest tenderness. Owing to these circumstances, Mrs. Ellis was not favourably disposed towards Gertrude; and Gertrude was not yet prepared to love Mrs. Ellis very cordially.
CHAPTER XVI.
WHO ARE HAPPY?
Emily sat alone in her room. Mr. Graham had gone to a meeting of bank-directors. Mrs. Ellis was stoning raisins in the dining-room. Willie detained Gertrude in the little library, and Emily was indulging in a long train of meditation. Her head rested on her hand; her face, usually so placid, was sad; and her whole appearance denoted despondency. As thought pressed upon thought, and past sorrows arose in quick succession, her head gradually sank upon the cushions of the couch where she sat, and tears slowly trickled through her fingers. Suddenly a hand was laid softly upon hers. She gave a quick start, as she always did when surprised, for her unusual pre-occupation of mind had made Gertrude's approaching step unheard. "Is anything the matter, Miss Emily?" said Gertrude. "Do you like best to be alone, or may I stay?"
The sympathetic tone, the delicacy of the child's question, touched Emily. She drew her towards her, saying, as she did so, "O, yes, stay with me;" then observing, as she passed an arm round the little girl, that she trembled, and seemed violently agitated, she added, "But what is the matter with you, Gerty? What makes you tremble and sob so?"