Aunt Jane, a trim little dark-eyed woman, looking at two and
forty much the same as she might have done at five and twenty; and Aunt
Adeline, pretty and delicately fair, with somewhat of the same grace as
Lady Merrifield, but more languor, and an air as if everything about
her were for effect. Though not specially fond of theses aunts,
Dolores was glad to have them as witnesses of her ill-usage.
'There stands Dolly, like a statue of Diana, dart in hand,' exclaimed
Aunt Adeline.
'Yes,' said Dolores; 'I wish to know, Aunt Lilias, if Wilfred and
Valetta are to call me names, and shoot arrows at me?'
'What do you mean, my dear?'
'They came at me while I was sitting quietly reading--there--and shot
at me, and called me such horrid names I can't repeat them, and ran
away. Then the others, Gillian and Harry and all, would not listen to
me, but shut themselves up in an out-house and shouted at me.'
'I think there must be some mistake, Dolores,' said her aunt. 'Where
are they?'
'Out beyond there,' said Dolores, pointing in the direction in which
Fergus was running.
Lady Merrifield set off with her, and the other two ladies followed
more slowly.
'I thought it would not do,' said Aunt Jane.
'Lily's children are so rough,' added Aunt Adeline.
'I am not so sure that the fault is theirs,' was the reply. 'She is a
priggish little puss, who wants shaking up.'
'Ah! here come the hordes,' sighed Adeline, shrinking a little, as the
entire population, summoned by Fergus, came pouring forth to meet the
advancing mother.
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