"For my sins."

"Do they bully you, then?" I asked, smiling.

"I should like to see them!" cried Cynthia with dignity.

"I have got a cousin who is nursing," I remarked. "And she is
terrified of 'Sisters'."

"I don't wonder. Sisters _are_, you know, Mr. Hastings. They
simp--ly _are_! You've no idea! But I'm not a nurse, thank heaven,
I work in the dispensary."

"How many people do you poison?" I asked, smiling.

Cynthia smiled too.

"Oh, hundreds!" she said.

"Cynthia," called Mrs. Inglethorp, "do you think you could write
a few notes for me?"

"Certainly, Aunt Emily."

She jumped up promptly, and something in her manner reminded me
that her position was a dependent one, and that Mrs. Inglethorp,
kind as she might be in the main, did not allow her to forget it.

My hostess turned to me.