"She would have known," sighed Juliet. "Mamma was a lady if
anybody ever was, and she didn't have the money we've got either."
The life of the Crosbys had been bare of luxuries and sometimes even of
comforts, until the considerate uncle died and left his money to the
twins. As fortunes go, it was not much, but it seemed inexhaustible to
them because they did not know how to spend it.
"I'll go this very day," thought Juliet, "and see Aunt Francesca. I'll
ask her. If Isabel is there, I'll have to wait, but if I don't ask for
Isabel, maybe I won't see her."
Having decided upon a plan of action, the way seemed easier, so Juliet
went about her daily duties with a lighter heart, and even sang after a
fashion, as she awkwardly pressed the wrinkles from her white muslin
gown. Though it was September, it was still warm enough to wear it.
Romeo, having only the day before attained his maturity, had taken unto
himself the masculine privilege of getting angry at someone else for
what he himself had done. He was furious with Juliet, though he did not
trouble himself to ask why.
Pages:
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349