re to be added.
Garda appeared at the eyrie and gave her invitation. She seemed to think
of it in the same way that the Doctor did--it was a visit; she had all
the air of a hostess, though rather a listless one.

Nothing in this young girl had Margaret Harold admired more than the
untroubled way in which she had accepted her new friend's assistance.
Mrs. Rutherford, who was industrious in prodding for motive (she
considered it a praiseworthy industry), had long ago announced that
Garda's affection for Margaret was based upon her own pennilessness and
Margaret's fortune. If this were so, there was at least no eagerness
about it; the girl accepted all that Margaret did, simply; sweetly
enough, but as a matter of course. The funeral expenses had been paid by
the Gracias friends, they had claimed this as their privilege; but since
then Margaret had provided for everything, from Garda's new mourning
garb to the money for the daily house-keeping at East Angels--sums which
Betty Carew had disbursed with her nicest care, which was yet a mad
expenditure when compared with the economies of Mrs. Thorne. The lean,
clean larder of East Angels had had a sense of repletion that was almost
profligate, and had felt itself carried wildly back to the days of Old
Madam--who had spent the last of the Duero capital in making herself
comfortable, smiling back wickedly at the blue eyes of Melissa Whiting
when the latter had tried to save some of it.

Margaret could not but contrast Garda's simple way with the scruples,
the inward distress, which she herself should have been a victim to if
she had been placed at that age in such a situation, thrown entirely
upon the care of a comparative stranger, at best a new friend. But here
was a nature which could accept unreservedly; it seemed to her a noble
trait; she said this to Mrs. Rutherford in answer to one of that lady's
attacks.

"If the positions were to be reversed, Aunt Katrina, I am sure she would
be just the same, she would give in the way in which she now accepts;
she would share everything with me with the same unreserve, and without
a second thought."

"Give _me_ the second thoughts, then!" said Aunt Katrina. "I must say I
cannot see the nobility in it that you and Evert see." (This was quite
true; Aunt Katrina never saw nobility.) "The girl has always had what
she wanted, and she's got it now; that's all there is of it. Evert talks
about her being so contented; most of us are content