"But these are all privileges; you were going to tell me about duties, were you not?"
"As to that, you may call them what you please, they are the whole duty of man in the country, and I can't see how you ever came to overlook them for such a length of time."
"You shan't be able to reproach me any more. Peaches are not in market; and my sail-boat is not out of winter quarters. But I might change a library book for a beginning. Haven't you got one that I might try my hand upon?"
"To be sure I have," said this hateful woman, with great enjoyment of her niece's anger; "I have a volume of Balzac that Goneril has just got through, under protest, and I'd like to have another, to make an utter end of her. It's my only chance of getting rid of her, and you would be a family benefactor."
"Please, let me have the book," said Mr. Andrews. "Is it this one on the table?"
"No," said Miss Varian. "I don't think it is down-stairs. Missy, ring the bell for Goneril to get it; will you?"
Missy had been sitting with her head turned away, and her lips pressed together. After her aunt spoke, she sat quite still for a moment, as if she could not bring herself to execute the order; then, without speaking, got up and walked across to the bell, and rang it, sitting down when she came back, a little further from the light, and from the two talkers.
"Missy, you've got through with the book yourself, haven't you?" said her aunt, determined to make her talk, as she was sure her voice, if she could be made to use it, would show her agitation.
That was Missy's calamity. Her voice was very sweet and pleasant; the nicest thing about her, except her feet and hands. But it was a very unmanageable gift, and it registered her emotions with unfailing accuracy. Missy might control her words, occasionally, but she could not control her voice, even occasionally. It was never shrill in anger, but it was tremulous and husky, and, in fine, angry. So now, when she answered her aunt that she had not seen the book, and did not know its name, and did not want to read it, the words were faultless, but the voice, alas, betrayed the want of harmony between aunt and niece. That Mr. Andrews had suspected since his earliest acquaintance with them.
"Oh, then, I won't keep it out for you," Miss Varian said blithely. "But, maybe you'd like Mr. Andrews to take back your Lecky; I heard you say at breakfast you had finished it. It wouldn't be much more trouble to take two than one, would it, Mr. Andrews?"