But Fanny's mind was not one that perceived the
finer shades.
"Well, I'm not going to say!" said Fanny, with vehemence. "But I can
tell you, mother _has_ a claim!--and Uncle Mallory _ought_ to have left
us something!"
The instant the words were out she regretted them. Diana abandoned her
childish attitude. She drew herself together, and sat upright on the
edge of the sofa. The color had come flooding back hotly into her
cheeks, and the slightly frowning look produced by the effort to see the
face before her distinctly gave a peculiar intensity to the eyes.
"Fanny, please!--you must tell me why!"
The tone, resolute, yet appealing, put Fanny in an evident
embarrassment.
"Well, I can't," she said, after a moment--"so it's no good asking me."
Then suddenly, she hesitated--"or--at least--"
"At least what? Please go on."
Fanny wriggled again, then said, with a burst:
"Well, my mother was Aunt Sparling's younger sister--you know
that--don't you?--"
"Of course."
"And our grandfather died a year before Aunt Sparling. She was mother's
trustee. Oh, the money's all right--the trust money, I mean," said the
girl, hastily.
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