“Do you think anything is the matter with sister?” Evelyn asked Aunt Maria after Maria had gone.
“Don't ask me,” replied Aunt Maria curtly.
“Aunt Maria!”
“Well?”
“Professor Lane isn't married. You don't suppose sister—”
“What a little goose you are, Evelyn Edgham!” cried Aunt Maria, almost fiercely turning upon her. “Do you suppose if Maria Edgham had wanted any man she couldn't have got him?”
“I suppose she could,” said Evelyn meekly. “And I know Professor Lane is so much older, but he always seemed to like sister, and I didn't know but she felt badly because he was so ill.”
“Stuff!” said Aunt Maria. “Come, you had better set the table. I have got to make some biscuits for supper. They won't be any more than done by the time Maria gets back.”
“Did you think she looked so very pale?” asked Evelyn, following her aunt out of the room.
“No, I didn't think she looked pale at all when I came to look at her,” said Aunt Maria, sharply. “She looked just as she always does. It was the light.”