Ally was chilled much more by Anne’s saying it than by the vision thus presented to her. She began hurriedly, “But Penton—” and then stopped, not knowing apparently what to say.
“I begin to be dreadfully tired of Penton,” said Anne, giving herself an air of superiority and elderly calmness. “Everybody romances so about that big, vulgar house. Well, anything’s vulgar that pretends to be more than it is. One would suppose it was the House Beautiful or else a royal palace at the very least, to hear you all speak. And then poor old Sir Walter, to grudge him his little bit of life! I feel like a vampire,” cried Anne, “every day wishing that he may die.”
“I am sure,” cried Ally, moved almost to tears, “I don’t wish him to die.”
“You wish to be at Penton, and you can’t be at Penton till he dies,” said Anne, triumphantly. “Poor old gentleman! his nice warm rooms that he has taken so much trouble with, and all his pretty things! And to think that a lot of children who will pull everything to pieces should he let in upon them, and his own daughter, who is like himself, and who would keep everything just as he liked to see it, should be driven away!”
“I never thought of it in that light before,” said Ally, in a troubled voice.
“Nor I,” said Anne; “but it is fair to put yourself in another person’s place and think how you would feel if—Mrs. Russell Penton must hate us, naturally. I should if I were she. Fancy if there was some one whose interest it was that father should die!”
“Oh, Anne!”
“It is just the very same only that father is not so old as Sir Walter. Suppose there were no boys, but only you and me, and some other horrible people were the heirs of the entail. How I should hate them! I think I should try to kill them!”
Anne loved an effect, and Ally’s softer spirit was the instrument upon which she played. Ally cried “No, no, no!” with a horrified protest against these abominable sentiments. A cloud of trouble gathered over her face; her eyes filled with tears. She put up her hands to stop those dreadful words as they flowed from her sister’s mouth.
“To hate any one would be terrible. I could not do that, nor you either, Anne.”