Winona could have made herself thoroughly happy at Abbey Close but for the shadow that existed between herself and Aunt Harriet.  Percy’s secret was a perpetual burden on her conscience.  At meal times she would often find her eyes wandering towards the oak cupboard, and would start guiltily, hoping Miss Beach had not noticed.  The more she thought about the subject the more convinced she became that she ought to give some hint of the state of affairs, though how to do so without implicating her brother was at present beyond her calculations.  One day, however, a really hopeful opportunity seemed to arise.  A case of a disputed will was being tried at the Seaton Sessions; the defendants were friends of Miss Beach’s, and after reading the account of the proceedings, Aunt Harriet laid down the local paper with a few comments.

“I suppose people ought to make their wills very fast and firm,” said Winona.  It was seldom she ventured on an independent remark.  As a rule she left her aunt to do the talking.

“Undoubtedly.  Nothing causes more trouble than carelessness in this respect.”

“Ought we all to make wills?”

“If we have anything to leave it’s advisable.”

“Ought I?”

“Well, hardly at present, I should say!”

“Ought mother?” Winona was growing redder and redder.

“No doubt she has done so.”

“Have you made yours, Aunt Harriet?”

The horrible deed was done, and Winona, crimson to the roots of her hair, felt she had, metaphorically speaking, burnt her boats.

Miss Beach stared at her as if electrified.

“What do you want to know for?” she asked, suspiciously.  “I think that’s decidedly my business and not yours!”

Winona collapsed utterly, and murmuring something about preparation, fled to her bedroom.

“There!  I’ve just gone and put my foot in it altogether!” she groaned.  “I’ve no tact!  I went and blurted it out like an idiot.  She’ll never forgive me!  Oh, why can’t I go and tell her the whole business, and then she’d understand!  I do hate this sneaking work.  Percy, you wretched boy, I’d like to bump your head against the wall!  It’s too bad to land me in your scrape!  Well, I suppose it can’t be helped.  I’ve said it, and it’s done.  But I know I’ll be in disgrace for evermore.”

Certainly Aunt Harriet’s manner towards Winona, after this unfortunate episode, was stiffer than formerly.  She was perfectly kind, but the gulf between them had widened.  They still discussed conventional topics at meal-times, or rather Miss Beach made leading remarks and Winona said “Yes,” or “No,” for such a one-sided conversation could hardly be termed discussion.  The girl felt it a relief when, as often happened, her aunt took refugein a book.  Occasionally Winona would pluck up courage to relate news from her home letters, but of her school life and all her new impressions and interests she scarcely spoke at all.  Judging from the children’s correspondence the new governess at Highfield, after a stormy beginning, was making some impressions upon her wild little pupils.