“Oh, she just won’t. Momma don’t like her much, and I’m not singing her praises.”
Edna looked curiously at the slender girl in the black dress who came in and took her place at the table.
She said “Good afternoon” in her pleasant little voice.
The governess person seemed rather surprised that she should address her.
“Good afternoon,” she replied. “Do you take milk and sugar?”
“Bring them round for us to help ourselves,” dictated Mamie.
Olive only smiled as she repeated her question, but Edna was distressed at her cousin’s rudeness, and her sensitive face was quite pink as she hurriedly declined sugar. She came to the table to fetch her cup, but Miss Whittaker waited for hers to be brought to her.
“How do you like this room, Edna? I had it fixed up for myself, and everything in it is mine.” She looked complacently up at the hangings of primrose silk that hid the fifteenth century frescoes on the walls.
Her cousin hesitated. “I guess it must have cost some.”