"But why should your own uncles think you were dead, when you seem to be so very much alive?"
"I think I would be dead, if a few of those people had their own way about it!" was her morose comment on that question of mine.
"And you include Wendy Washburn in that circle?" I asked.
"He's worse than any of the rest of them!" was her spirited retort.
"Is he—in any way related to you?" I inquired, remembering certain things.
"In more ways than one, unfortunately."
"But how?" I persisted.
"He happens to be my cousin, in the first place."
This gave me still a second shock to digest.
"Go on," I prompted.
"And when mother died in Florence, three years ago, he was made my guardian-at-law."
"Wendy Washburn was?" I incredulously demanded.
"It does seem absurd, doesn't it?" said the morose-eyed girl. "But it's true."
"And you know, you even acknowledge, that he's the worst of the lot?"
"You'd agree with me, if you knew him as I do!" was her retort.
