“He won’t hear of my loss for some time,” said Lily, “for he is leaving England to-day for the West Indies. But never mind, Aunt Cosy. I’ve got a letter of credit on the bank here.”
The face of the Countess cleared, and even Uncle Angelo looked round at her, quite an eager look on his fat face.
“I’m very glad to hear that,” said the Countess heartily. “Tom is a very generous man. There is nothing low or mean about him.”
“He is goodness itself!” said Lily. And then she added a little shyly: “But the money is really mine, Aunt Cosy. Since my twenty-first birthday, which was the tenth of last July, I’ve had my own banking account. As a matter of fact, Uncle Tom wanted to give me a present, but he didn’t quite know what to get, so he gave me the fifty pounds.”
“Angelo! See whether among your tools you cannot find something that will at any rate temporarily restore our poor cabinet,” said Aunt Cosy briskly.
“As for you and I, dear child, we will go out for a little turn in the garden.”
The little turn consisted in Lily and the Countess walking up and down the lawn for half an hour.
For the first time Aunt Cosy asked Lily all kinds of questions about poor Aunt Emmeline’s illness and death—also as to whether she, Aunt Emmeline, had been a woman of means—whether she had left dear Lily a legacy—whether The Nest belonged to Uncle Tom, as also the furniture—and finally, whether Uncle Tom was likely to marry again? This last question shocked Lily, but it was evidently a very natural one from the speaker’s point of view.
And then, all at once, the Countess exclaimed: “And how about Miss Rosa Fairfield? Is she still living?”
“Oh yes!” Lily laughed. “Cousin Rosa is very much alive, though she’s over eighty. She leads that dull, quiet life so many very old people like to live. She much disapproved of my coming abroad; she wanted me to go and spend the winter with her.”