Chichester haughtily. "AUNT. Not ANT."
Alaric commented to Ethel:
"ANT! Like some little crawly insect."
Peg heard him, looked at him and laughed. He certainly was odd. Then
she looked at Ethel, then at Mr. Hawkes, then all round the room as
if she missed someone. Finally she faced Mrs. Chichester again.
"Are you me Uncle Nat's widdy?"
"No, I am not," contradicted the old lady sharply.
"Then how are you me--AUNT?" demanded Peg.
"I am your mother's sister," replied Mrs. Chichester.
"Oh!" cried Peg. "Then your name's Monica?"
"It is."
"What do ye think of that?" said Peg under her breath. She
surreptitiously opened out the miniature and looked at it, then she
scrutinised her aunt. She shook her head.
"Ye don't look a bit like me poor mother did."
"What have you there?" asked Mrs. Chichester.
"Me poor mother's picture," replied Peg softly.
"Let me see it!" and Mrs. Chichester held out her hand for it. Peg
showed it to Mrs. Chichester, all the while keeping a jealous hold
on a corner of the frame. No one would ever take it away from her.
The old lady looked at it intently. Finally she said:
"She had changed very much since I last saw her--and in one year."
"Sorrow and poverty did that, Aunt Monica," and the tears sprang
unbidden into Peg's eyes.
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