Baines in the bedroom. He felt that
she knew everything about him--even to those tears which had been
in his eyes. He felt that he could hope to do nothing right for
Aunt Harriet, that absolute perfection in the performance of duty
would make no more impression on her than a caress on the fly-
wheel of a traction-engine. Constance, the dear Constance, was
also looked at askance. There was nothing in Aunt Harriet's
demeanour to her that you could take hold of, but there was
emphatically something that you could not take hold of--a hint, an
inkling, that insinuated to Constance, "Have a care, lest
peradventure you become the second cousin of the scarlet woman."
Sophia was petted. Sophia was liable to be playfully tapped by
Aunt Harriet's thimble when Aunt Harriet was hemming dusters (for
the elderly lady could lift a duster to her own dignity). Sophia
was called on two separate occasions, 'My little butterfly.' And
Sophia was entrusted with the trimming of Aunt Harriet's new
summer bonnet. Aunt Harriet deemed that Sophia was looking pale.
As the days passed, Sophia's pallor was emphasized by Aunt Harriet
until it developed into an article of faith, to which you were
compelled to subscribe on pain of excommunication.
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