"Let us talk it all out, Grace; all the bitterness, all the disappointment, everything that is making you wretched. What is it you wish to do? What is it particularly you complain of?"
"Mr. Sandford is so unkind: he speaks so harshly to me. I know he hates me."
"And you have tried to win his affection, you have done all on your side to make him like you?"
"I know it is no use. And he does not appreciate me in any way."
"Appreciate you?"
"At school I was always first and everyone knew I was clever—since—and—here he takes no notice. If he dislikes us, why must we live here, why may we not go?" Grace persisted, anxious to cling to her point and gain it.
"I am afraid you have never quite understood your position, Grace; that you really know nothing about it; and if I explain it to you you will perhaps be very angry."
"I think I understand our position," said Grace, with a slight toss of the head, "we are his wards, Margaret and I; he is our guardian."
"You are quite wrong, Grace; he is nothing of the sort."
"Then why does he arrange for us? I was always told he was our guardian," and Grace opened her eyes wide, and looked at Mrs. Dorriman, surprised out of her usual self-assertion.