Possibly the memory of the day when she walked through those brilliant
rooms at Sevres, and bought her costly wares, softened a little her
somewhat harsh, uncompromising nature, for there was a very womanly
expression on her usually severe face as she sipped her favorite oolong,
and gazed dreamily into the fire, where she seemed to see again the
sweet face of the child who had talked to her on the shores of Cardigan
Bay, and whose innocent prattle had by turns amused, and interested, and
enraged her. And, as she gazed she thought:
"Yes, Grey was right. Why didn't I take the little thing in my arms and
bring her home with me? To think of her being hungry, when there is
enough wasted in this house every day to feed her! And why did I so far
forget myself as to talk as I did to-day--I, who am usually so silent
with regard to my affairs! Why need I have told them that Archie's wife
was a trollop. I suppose the venom is still rankling in me for the name
she called me, 'Old Sour Krout!'" and Miss Betsey smiled grimly as she
remembered all, the child upon the terrace had said to her that summer
morning three years ago, "She is truthful, at all events," she
continued, "and I like that, and wish I had her here.
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