“Humph.”
“Yes,” went on Lucy, raising her chin a trifle higher, “I am perfectly capable of supporting myself any time I wish to do so.”
“Mebbe you’d rather do that than stay here with me,” her aunt suggested derisively.
“Maybe,” was the simple retort. “I shall see.”
Ellen bit her lip and then for the second time her sense of humor overcame her.
“I guess there’s no doubtin’ you’re a 43 genuine Webster,” she replied good-humoredly. “I begin to think we shall get on together nicely.”
“I hope so.”
There was a reservation in the words that nettled Ellen.
“Why shouldn’t we?” she persisted.
“I don’t know.”