Leslie’s face at her brother’s funeral and at her father’s funeral—and now it seemed to me I was seeing it at her own funeral. But Rose was smiling as a basket of chips, believe me!
“Leslie and Dick settled down on the West place—Rose couldn’t bear to part with her dear daughter!—and lived there for the winter. In the spring Rose took pneumonia and died—a year too late! Leslie was heart-broken enough over it. Isn’t it terrible the way some unworthy folks are loved, while others that deserve it far more, you’d think, never get much affection? As for Dick, he’d had enough of quiet married life—just like a man. He was for up and off. He went over to Nova Scotia to visit his relations—his father had come from Nova Scotia—and he wrote back to Leslie that his cousin, George Moore, was going on a voyage to Havana and he was going too. The name of the vessel was the Four Sisters and they were to be gone about nine weeks.
“It must have been a relief to Leslie. But she never said anything. From the day of her marriage she was just what she is now—cold and proud, and keeping everyone but me at a distance. I won’t be kept at a distance, believe me! I’ve just stuck to Leslie as close as I knew how in spite of everything.”
“She told me you were the best friend she had,” said Anne.
“Did she?” exclaimed Miss Cornelia delightedly. “Well, I’m real thankful to hear it. Sometimes I’ve
