They thought that she was her own mother. She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go. Bird,—who was rushing up stairs, alarmed by Mr. I bent over him. I have never in my life been so much puzzled by any one as by your sister. “If I am,” he answered, reddening, “you can scarcely assert that it is without a cause. A delicate flush of colour streamed into her cheeks. “I will do whatever you want,” said Ann Veronica.
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