“You need not worry about that, Benny dear,” she said. “Then what right have the girls to tell so many people the nice things they hear you say about him?” Annie removed the omelet skilfully from the pan to a hot plate, which she set on the range shelf, and turned to her brother. “What nice things do they hear me say?” “That he is so handsome; that he has such a good position; that he is the very best young man in the place; that you should think every girl would be head over heels in love with him; that every word he speaks is so bright and clever.” Annie looked at her brother. “I don't believe you ever said one of those things,” remarked Benny. Annie continued to look at him. “Did you?” “Benny dear, I am not going to tell you.” “You won't say you never did, because that would be putting your sisters in the wrong and admitting that they tell lies. Annie, you are a dear, but I do think you are doing wrong and spoiling them as much as they say you are spoiling me.” “Perhaps I am,” said Annie. There was a strange, tragic expression on her keen, pretty little face. She looked as if her mind was contemplating strenuous action which was changing her very features. She had covered the finished omelet and was now cooking another. “I wish you would see if everybody is in the house and ready, Benny,” said she. “When this omelet is done they must come right away, or nothing will be fit to eat. And, Benny dear, if you don't mind, please get the butter and the cream-pitcher out of the ice-chest. I have everything else on the table.” “There is another thing,” said Benny. “I don't go about telling tales, but I do think it is time you knew. The girls tell everybody that you like to do the housework so much that they don't dare interfere. And it isn't so. They may have taught themselves to think it is so, but it isn't. You would like a little time for fancy-work and reading as well as they do.” “Please get the cream and butter, and see if they are all in the house,” said Annie. She spoke as usual, but the strange expression remained in her face. It was still there when the family were all gathered at the table and she was serving the puffy omelet. Jane noticed it first. “What makes you look so odd, Annie?” said she. “I don't know how I look odd,” replied Annie. They all gazed at her then, her father with some anxiety. “You don't look yourself,” he said. “You are feeling well, aren't you, Annie?” “Quite well, thank you, father.” But after the omelet was served and the tea poured Annie rose. “Where are you going, Annie?” asked Imogen, in her sarcastic voice. “To my room, or perhaps out in the orchard.” “It will be sopping wet out there after the shower,” said Eliza. “Are you crazy, Annie?” “I have on my black skirt, and I will wear rubbers,” said Annie, quietly. “I want some fresh air.” “I should think you had enough fresh air. You were outdoors all the afternoon, while we were cooped up in the house,” said Jane.