“Yes, whilst you have been ill.”
“Oh, I am so glad it is over, and I knew nothing about it.”
“Oh, exactly! Not a thought of the worry you have been to me; deprived of my sleep—of my bed—of my bed,” repeated Aunt Dunes, grimly. “How can you expect a bulb to flower if you take it out of the earth and stick it on a bedroom chair stirring broth? I have no patience with you young people. You are consumed with selfishness.”
“But, auntie! Don’t be cross. Why did Captain Coppinger buy all my dear crinkum-crankums?”
Aunt Dionysia snorted and tossed her head.
Judith suddenly flushed; she did not repeat the question, but said hastily, “Auntie, I want to go back to Mr. Menaida.”
“You cannot desire it more than I do,” said Miss Trevisa, sharply. “But whether he will let you go is another matter.”
“Aunt Dunes, if I want to go, I will go!”
“Indeed!”
“I will go back as soon as ever I can.”