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The Story of the Gravelys
The Story of the Gravelys / A Tale for Girls
“A child’s needless tear is a blood-blot upon this earth.”
—Cardinal Manning
CHAPTER I.
THE QUARREL
“I won’t live on my brother-in-law,” said the slight, dark girl.
“Yes, you will,” said the fair-haired beauty, her sister, who was standing over her in a somewhat theatrical attitude.
“I will not,” said Berty again. “You think because you have just been married you are going to run the family. I tell you, I will not do it. I will not live with you.”
“I don’t want to run the family, but I am a year and a half older than you, and I know what is for your good better than you do.”
“You do not—you butterfly!”
“Alberta Mary Francesca Gravely—you ought to be ashamed of yourself,” said the beauty, in concentrated wrath.
“I’m not ashamed of myself,” replied her sister, scornfully. “I’m ashamed of you. You’re just as extravagant as you can be. You spend every cent of your husband’s income, and now you want to saddle him with a big boy, a girl, and an—”
“An old lady,” said Margaretta.
“Grandma isn’t old. She’s only sixty-five.”
“Sixty-five is old.”