"She ought to belong to the Tank Brigade," said Rose. "'Treat 'em rough'
is her motto."
"I like the old girl, though," said Quin disrespectfully, "she's got so
much pep. And talk about your nerve! You should have seen her set her jaw
when I put the splint on!"
"Is the house very grand?" asked Myrna, hungering for luxurious details.
"No," Cass broke in scornfully. "I been in the hall twice. It looks like
a museum--big pictures and statuary, and everything dark and gloomy."
"Yes, and Miss Isobel and Miss Enid are the mummies," added Rose. "The
only nice one in the bunch besides Nell is Mr. Ranny, and he is hardly
ever sober."
"Well, I wouldn't be, either," said Cass, "if I'd been held down like he
has all his life. The Bartlett estate was left in trust to the old lady,
and she holds the purse-strings and has the say-so about everything."
Quin refrained from mentioning the fact that he had also met Mr. Ranny.
It was a point to his credit, for the story would have been received with
hilarity, and he particularly enjoyed making Rose laugh.
The entrance of Mr. Martel put an end to the discussion of the Bartletts.
Bitter as was his animosity toward the old lady, he would permit no
disrespect to be shown her or hers in his presence.
Pages:
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105