Читать книгу The Mean-Wells онлайн

8 страница из 44

“Well, dear, you see folks always think a lot of the youngest,” said Miss Potts gently.

Priscilla nodded her head very soberly.

“They do!” she said gravely, “and of the eldest, too, I think. Yesterday when granny gave Geoffrey a book and didn’t give me one, she said it was given to Geoffrey because he was the eldest. I don’t think it is very nice to be an in-between, do you, Miss Potts?”

“I don’t know, dear,” said Miss Potts, with a deep sigh. “I’d be glad to be anything if only I’d got some brothers and sisters.”

“Miss Potts, didn’t you ever have any?” Priscilla was standing at the end of the counter, gazing up at the tall, thin woman behind it. Miss Potts was certainly a very interesting person, she thought—so much seemed to have happened in her life. Miss Potts shook her head, and passed her hand across her eyes.

“I had them, Miss Priscilla,” she said softly, “but I’m the only one left.”

“I am very sorry,” said Priscilla, in a tone of sympathy. “It must be dreadfully sad for you; I hope you didn’t mind my asking.” Then, after a moment’s pause, “I’ll be your sister, if you would like me to, Miss Potts. Of course, I couldn’t live with you always, but——”