"There's no chance of my going."

"Then we'll put the idea away and say no more about it. Get me my
Continental Bradshaw out of my dressing-bag: I'm no use here. Nobody
loves me, and I'll go to Norway by the first omnibus to-morrow
morning."

"Don't," said Betty; "how can you say nobody loves you?"

"Your step-father doesn't, anyway. That's why I can make him do what I
like when I take the trouble. When people love you they'll never do
anything for you,--not even answer a plain question with a plain yes
or no. Go and get the Bradshaw. You'll be sorry when I'm gone."

"Aunt Julia, you don't really mean it."

"Of course not. I never mean anything except the things I don't say.
The Bradshaw!"

Betty came and sat on the arm of her aunt's chair.

"It's not fair to tease me," she said, "and tantalise me. You know how
mizzy I am."

"No. I don't know anything. You won't tell me anything. Go and get--"

"Dear, darling, pretty, kind, clever Aunt," cried Betty, "I'd give my
ears to go."

"Then borrow a large knife from cook, and sharpen it on the front