'Do whatever you think best. It's very good of you—'
'Not at all. Dear Aunt Pattie!—lie still. By the way—has she anyone with her?'
'Only her maid—the one person who can manage her at all. That poor lady, you know, who tried to be companion, gave it up some time ago. Where shall we put her?'
'There are the two east rooms. Shall I tell Andreina to get them ready?'
Aunt Pattie acquiesced, with a sound rather like a groan.
'There is no chance still of stopping her?' said Eleanor, moving away.
'The telegram gives no address but Orte station,' said Aunt Pattie wearily; 'she must have sent it on her journey.'
'Then we must be prepared. Don't fret—dear Aunt Pattie!—we'll help you through.'
Eleanor stood a moment in the salon, thinking.
Unlucky! Manisty's eccentric and unmanageable sister had been for many years the secret burden of his life and Aunt Pattie's. Eleanor had been a witness of the annoyance and depression with which he had learnt during the winter that she was in Italy. She knew something of the efforts that had been made to keep her away from the villa.—