“No, madam.”
“Wall, now. Don’t you think that’s singular?” and grandma looked at her daughter-in-law and Anna, the latter of whom seized the opportunity to spit out her venom, and said:
“Not singular at all, and if I’s you, grandma, I wouldn’t bother Reinette with troublesome questions, for I’ve no idea that she ever heard of us until to-day, let alone her knowing how old she was when her mother died.”
Anna spoke spitefully, and had the satisfaction of seeing the black eyes under the thin veil unclose and flash at her just once, while grandma replied:
“Never heard of us till to-day! Never heard she had a grandmother! Be you crazy, Anny? Do you s’pose her father never told her of her mother’s folks? Rennet, do you hear that? I hope you can contradict it.”
Thus appealed to Reinette roused herself, and in a voice choking with sobs, said:
“Oh, please—don’t worry me now; by and by I can talk with you, but now—oh, father, father, why did you die and leave me here alone.”
The sob was a wailing, heart-broken cry, and the little hands were upraised and beat the air in a paroxysm of nervous pain for an instant, then dropped helplessly, and Reinette never moved again until they turned into the cemetery and stopped before the Hetherton lot. Then she started, and throwing back her veil, said, hurriedly:
“What is it? Are we there?”
Grandma Ferguson, who, since Reinette’s pitiful outburst, had been crying softly to herself, wiped her eyes and said: