"Auntie, do you notice how very pale father looks?"
The dim shadows lie in long dark lines across the quaint old room. Zoe, curled up by the window, is trying to catch the last faint rays of daylight; but the dim light grows dimmer, and the words on the page are no longer discernable.
"Yes, child, of course I've noticed it; who would not? and what the end of it will be is more than my knowledge of the future can penetrate; I have not the least idea."
Dolores' pretty grey kitten jumps up in Miss Adeline's lap.
"Get down, you nuisance," she says crossly.
"Come here, Moody, you dear, pretty thing, to Zoe."
Moody obediently goes sedately, with a look of injured dignity; she rubs her glossy head against Zoe's arm, and plays with the tassels on the window curtains.
"I will have to marry old Mr. Vacine after all, and his money bags will restore the house of Litchfield to its former glory."
Miss Adeline is quick to take offence when one of her old friends are being spoken lightly of.
"Mr. Vacine is too old for a child like you to jest about. Youth should always respect old age," she says severely.