Look, here are the tears! . . . But you . . . you have tears in your eyes also. Yes, you have, you can't deny it. Tell me, Auntie, what is it?"
"Why, Marianne, it's nothing . . . but you talk such nonsense sometimes . . . and that upsets me; and, when I see other people crying, it makes the tears come into my eyes too."
"Uncle isn't always nice to you, is he, Auntie?"
"My dear Marianne! . . ."
"No, I know he isn't. Do let me talk about it. It's so horrid, when you're very fond of some one, always to be silent about the things you're thinking of. Let me talk about it. I know that Uncle is not always nice. I told him the other day . . ."
"What?"
"You'll be angry when you hear. I told him the other day that he must be nicer to you. Are you angry?"
"No, dear, but . . ."
"No, you mustn't be angry: I meant to say the right thing. I can't bear to think of your not being happy together. Do try and be happy together."
"But, Marianne dear, it's years now . . ."
"Yes, but it must be altered. Auntie, it must be altered. It would make me so awfully happy."
"Oh, Marianne, Marianne, how excitable you are! . . ."
"Because I feel for people when I'm fond of them. There are people who never feel and others
