'Well, I've a kind of idea that you will have a chance of seeing who is right, you or I, one of these days,' was Sarah's answer.
'I wish you'd tell me why you say that, Sarah—I do really,' said Horatia.
To say what she really felt was impossible to Sarah, for at the bottom of her hatred of her riches was the feeling that they had been unjustly, if not dishonourably, obtained, and that other people knew it and despised them for it, and this was gall and wormwood to a girl of her proud spirit.
'How can I possibly tell you why any idea comes into my head any more than I can tell you why I think it's going to rain to-night in spite of its being so lovely just now?' demanded Sarah.
'That's quite a different thing. There's a west wind blowing, and it feels like rain,' said Horatia; 'there's a reason for that.'
'Very well; there's a feeling in the air as if the home of Clay were going to fall,' retorted Sarah.
'Then there must be some reason for it; and if you know it I think you ought to try and prevent it for your mother's sake, even if you would like it to fall,' said Horatia.
'You think girls can do anything, but you are wrong; they can't, and I don't know any reason why it should fall, and I dare say it's all imagination. Why does it interest you so much?' asked Sarah.
'Sarah, tell me, why won't Naomi's sister come near Balmoral?' asked Horatia abruptly.
'Because she hates my father. Every one isn't so fond of him as you are,' said Sarah.