"Then there is a great deal of duty for _you_ to do," says she
solemnly, letting her chin slip into the hollow of her hand.

"I know--I'm sure of it," says the professor with a sigh that might
be called a groan. "But your aunt, Miss Majendie--your mother's
sister--can----"

"I don't believe she is my mother's sister," says Miss Wynter
calmly. "I have seen my mother's picture. It is lovely! Aunt Jane
was a changeling--I'm sure of it. But never mind her. You were going
to say----?"

"That Miss Majendie, who is virtually your guardian--can explain it
all to you much better than I can."

"Aunt Jane is _not_ my guardian!" The mild look of enquiry changes
to one of light anger. The white brown contracts. "And certainly she
could never make one happy and comfortable. Well--what else?"

"She will look after----"

"I told you I don't care about Aunt Jane. Tell me what _you_ can
do----"

"See that your fortune is not----"

"I don't care about my fortune either," with a little petulant
gesture. "But I _do_ care about my happiness. Will you see to
_that?_"