Elizabeth listened with mixed feelings. Auntie Jinit was not so much to be pitied after all. It would seem that Nemesis was after Jake Martin all right; but suppose she caught Susie too, and the younger one still at home? What would become of Susie if her stepmother secured her "rights"?
"I—I hope," she ventured hesitatingly, "that you'll get all you want, Auntie Jinit, but poor Susie and Charlie have slaved there for years and it would be cruel to turn them out."
The woman turned and looked at Elizabeth with a flash of her brilliant eyes. "An' d'ye think ah'd do yon?" she exclaimed indignantly. "Eh, eh, lassie, it's no Jinit Johnstone wad ill use a bairn. If there's onything we kin dae in this warld we suld dae it, and there's Jake Martin's bairns need a mither if ever onybody did—aye, for they niver had ane yit, ah misdoot—jist a pair drudge that hadna the spunk to protect her ain. But ah'm no that kind. Aye, but ah'm no!"
Elizabeth, looking at her, could not doubt her—neither could she doubt that Susie and the younger Martins would fare well at Auntie Jinit's hands.
"What about church, Auntie Jinit?" she asked teasingly. "Mr. Martin won't go to Dr. Murray since Tom Teeter goes—you'll have to turn Methody!"
The lady gave her a reassuring look out of the corner of her eye. "No likely," she said, with a setting of her firm mouth. "Dinna ye fear for me. He's gaun to Maister Murray—an' no sik a late date neither." She smiled slyly and her eyes twinkled. "He ses tae me, ses he, 'Ah dinna like ye in black,' ses he, 'Ah'd like to see ye in somethin' that's mair spicy,' ses he. An' ses ah, 'Weel, if ah hed a nice braw husband to gang to the kirk wi' me foreby, it's a braw spicy goon ah'd be wearin'—an' ah'm thinkin' o' gettin' a gray poplin the day, mebby.' An' he's promised to come—gin ah merry him—but ah'm jist no sure yet."
It was impossible to describe the air of youthful coquetry and mischief mixed with hard determination and assurance of triumphant power that beamed in Auntie Jinit's eyes. The most successful society belle, accomplished in all the arts of refined flirtation, might have envied her that glance.
Elizabeth arrived at Annie's white-pillared house bursting with mirth. She described the interview to John Coulson at the mid-day meal in such a diverting manner that he roared with laughter, and declared he would undertake Auntie Jinit's cause and tie up Jake so tight financially that he would never be able to spend five cents again without permission.
Elizabeth took full possession of the Vision during her visit. It was well she was willing to accept the position of nurse, for he welcomed her with leaps and squeals of joy, and wept loudly and bitterly whenever she dared leave him. His mother was relieved greatly by her sister's help. For Mrs. John Coulson was suffering from the chronic housekeeping malady, an incompetent maid. A faithful servant of two years' standing had gone off in a temper the week before because her mistress had announced that henceforth they should have dinner at six o'clock in the evening. Everyone on Sunset Hill had evening dinners and Annie had long felt the disgrace of their mid-day meal. But social eminence, she discovered, was dearly bought, for the faithful Bella immediately departed, declaring "she'd wash pots and pans for no living woman on nights when her gentleman friends was calling." Her successor was a leisurely young lady with an elaborate dressing of hair, who could not have got dinner a minute earlier than six o'clock in the afternoon in any case, and the Coulsons were now fashionable and uncomfortable.
During the week preceding Estella's reception, the young lady visited Elizabeth frequently to report progress. Preparations were going forward on a grand scale, and the plan to "show the Olivers" had expanded into "showing Cheemaun" what might be done in the way of an up-to-date social function.