"Surely you _will_ answer it?" said Miss Vesta, altering the unlucky form of words. "Nothing of the sort! She has had the impudence to write to me, and she can answer herself." "She cannot very well do that, Aunt Marcia." "Then she can go without. "'Tiddy hi, toddy ho, Tiddy hi hum, Thus was it when Barbara Popkins was young!'" Miss Vesta sighed again; it was always a bad sign when Mrs. Tree began to sing. "Very well, Aunt Marcia," she said, after a pause, rising. "I will answer for both, then. I will say that--" "Say that I am blind, deaf, and dumb!" her aunt commanded. "Say that I have the mumps and the chicken-pox, and am recommended absolute retirement. Say I have my sins to think about, and have no time for anything else. Say anything you like, Vesta, but run along now, like a good girl, and let me get smoothed out before that poor little parson comes to see me. He's coming at five. Last time I scared him out of a year's growth--te-hee!--and he has none to spare, inside or out. Good-by, my dear." CHAPTER XV. MARIA "My dearest Vesta, what a pleasure to see you! You are looking wretched, simply wretched! How thankful I am that I came!" Mrs. Pryor embraced her cousin with effusion. She was short and fair, with prominent eyes and teeth, and she wore a dress that crackled and ornaments that clinked. Miss Vesta, in her dove-colored cashmere and white net, seemed to melt into her surroundings and form part of them, but Mrs. Pryor stood out against them like a pump against an evening sky. "It was very kind of you to come, Maria," said Miss Vesta, "very kind indeed. I trust you had a comfortable journey, and are not too tired." "My dear," said Mrs. Pryor, buoyantly, "I am never tired. Watchspring and wire--Mr. Pryor always said that was what his little Maria was made of. But it would have made no difference if I had been at the point of exhaustion, I would have made any effort to come to you. Darracott blood, my love! Any one who has a drop of Darracott blood in his veins can call upon me for anything; how much more you, who are my own first cousin. Poor, dear Phoebe, what a loss! You are not in black, I see. Ah! I remember her peculiar views. You feel bound to respect them. I consider that a mistake, Vesta. We must respect, but we are not called upon to imitate, the eccentricities--" "I share my sister's views," said Miss Vesta, tranquilly. "Will you have a cup of tea now, Maria, or would you like to go to your room at once?"