Isabel thought she had very strange manners. "It depends upon whose daughters you mean."
"The late Mr. Archer＇s—and my poor sister＇s."
"Ah," said Isabel slowly, "you must be our crazy Aunt Lydia!"
"Is that what your father told you to call me? I＇m your Aunt Lydia, but I＇m not at all crazy: I haven＇t a delusion! And which of the daughters are you?"
"I＇m the youngest of the three, and my name＇s Isabel."
"Yes; the others are Lilian and Edith. And are you the prettiest?"
