“As you will.” Miss Trevisa shrugged her shoulders, and cast a glance at her niece like a dagger-stab.
“Auntie—I am but a child.”
“That may be. But there are times when even children must decide momentous questions. A boy as a child decides on his profession, a girl—may be—on her marriage.”
“Oh, dear Auntie! Do leave Jamie here for, say a fortnight, and in a fortnight from to-day you shall have my answer.”
“No,” answered Miss Trevisa, “I also must decide as to my future, for your decision affects not Jamie only but me also.”
Judith had listened in great self-restraint, holding the feather before her. She held it between thumb and forefinger of both hands, not concerning herself about it, and yet with her eyes watching the undulations from the end of the quill to the deep blue eye set in a halo of gold at the further end, and the feather undulated with every rise and fall of her bosom.
“Surely, Auntie! You cannot wish me to marry Cruel Coppinger?”
“I have no wishes one way or the other. Please yourself.”
“But, Auntie——”
“You profess to be ready to do all you can for Jamie and yet hesitate about relieving me of an irksome charge, and Jamie of what you consider barbarous treatment.”