"For my sins."
"Do they bully you, then?" I asked, smiling.
"I should like to see them!" cried Cynthia with dignity.
"I have got a cousin who is nursing," I remarked. "And she is
terrified of 'Sisters'."
"I don't wonder. Sisters _are_, you know, Mr. Hastings. They
simp--ly _are_! You've no idea! But I'm not a nurse, thank heaven,
I work in the dispensary."
"How many people do you poison?" I asked, smiling.
Cynthia smiled too.
"Oh, hundreds!" she said.
"Cynthia," called Mrs. Inglethorp, "do you think you could write
a few notes for me?"
"Certainly, Aunt Emily."
She jumped up promptly, and something in her manner reminded me
that her position was a dependent one, and that Mrs. Inglethorp,
kind as she might be in the main, did not allow her to forget it.
My hostess turned to me.
"John will show you your room. Supper is at half-past seven. We
have given up late dinner for some time now. Lady Tadminster,
our Member's wife--she was the late Lord Abbotsbury's
daughter--does the same.
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