Fanny stared at her dazedly.
“What right has she got interfering?” demanded Mrs. Zelotes again.
“Why,” replied Fanny, stammering, “she thought Ellen was so smart. She heard her valedictory, and the school-teacher had talked about her, what a good scholar she was, and she thought it would be nice for her to go to college, and she should be very much obliged herself, and feel that we were granting her a great pleasure and privilege if we allowed her to send Ellen to Vassar.”
All unconsciously Fanny imitated to the life Cynthia's soft elegance of speech and language.
“Pshaw!” said Mrs. Zelotes; but still she said it not so much angrily as doubtfully. “It's the first time I ever heard of Cynthia Lennox doing such a thing as that,” said she. “I never knew she was given to sending girls to college. I never heard of her giving anything to anybody.”
Fanny looked mysteriously at her mother-in-law with sudden confidence. “Look here,” she said.
“What?”
The two women looked at each other, and neither said a word, but the meaning of one flashed to the other like telegraphy.
“Do you s'pose that's it?” said Mrs. Zelotes, her old face relaxing into half-shamed, half-pleased smiles.
“Yes, I do,” said Fanny, emphatically.