"You know I'm most eighteen. Hardly sixteen! Why, I might as well
say you're hardly forty, when everybody knows you're most fifty."
"Most fifty!" ejaculated the scandalized spinster. "It's a base
slander. I'm only forty-three."
"Maybe I'm mistaken," said Jack, carelessly. "I didn't know exactly.
I only judged from your looks."
"'Judge not that ye be not judged!'" said Rachel, whom this
explanation was not likely to appease. "The world is full of calumny
and misrepresentation. I've no doubt you would like to shorten my
days upon the earth, but I sha'n't live long to trouble any of you.
I feel that, ere the summer of life is over, I shall be gathered
into the garden of the Great Destroyer."
At this point, Rachel applied a segment of a pocket-handkerchief to
her eyes; but unfortunately, owing to circumstances, the effect,
instead of being pathetic, as she had intended, was simply
ludicrous.
It so happened that a short time previous the inkstand had been
partially spilled on the table, and this handkerchief had been used
to sop it up. It had been placed inadvertently on the window-seat,
where it had remained till Rachel, who sat beside the window, called
it into requisition. The ink upon it was by no means dry. The
consequence was that, when Rachel removed it from her eyes, her face
was found to be covered with ink in streaks,--mingling with the
tears that were falling, for Rachel always had tears at her command.
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