When Judith opened her eyes, she found herself in a strange room, but as she looked about her she saw Aunt Dionysia with her hands behind her back looking out of the window.
"Oh, aunt! Where am I?"
Miss Trevisa turned.
"So you have come round at last, or pleased to pretend to come round. It is hard to tell whether or not dissimulation was here."
"There's no saying. Young folks are not what they were in my day. They have neither the straightforwardness nor the consideration for their elders and betters."
"But—where am I?"
"At the Glaze; not where I put you, but where you have put yourself."
"I did not come here, auntie, dear."
"Don't auntie dear me, and deprive me of my natural sleep."
"Have you not? Three nights have I had to sit up. And natural sleep is as necessary to me at my age as is stays. I fall abroad without one or the other. Give me my choice—whether I'd have nephews and nieces crawling about me or erysipelas, and I'd choose the latter."
" But, aunt—I'm sorry if I am a trouble to you."
"Of course you are a trouble. How can you be other? Don't burs stick? But that is neither here nor there."
"Aunt, how came I to Pentyre Glaze?"
"I didn't invite you, and I didn't bring you—you may be sure of that. Captain Coppinger found you somewhere on the down at night, when you ought to have been at home. You were insensible, or pretended to be so—it's not for me to say which."