To my surprise, she flushed painfully.

"I don't want to go, Aunt Ray," she said. "Don't make me leave now."

"You are losing your health and your good looks," I said decidedly.

"You should have a change."

"I shan't stir a foot." She was equally decided. Then, more lightly:

"Why, you and Liddy need me to arbitrate between you every day in the

week."

Perhaps I was growing suspicious of every one, but it seemed to me that

Gertrude's gaiety was forced and artificial. I watched her covertly

during the rest of the drive, and I did not like the two spots of

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crimson in her pale cheeks. But I said nothing more about sending her

to Scotland: I knew she would not go.




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