"Now what nonsense this is," said Aunt Marjorie in her fussy tones. "Judy, I hope Hilda is not going to encourage you in silly sentimental talk of that kind. You say your heart aches with pleasure. Really, my dear, I have no patience to listen to you. I should like to know what a child like you knows about heart-aches--you, who have been brought up in what I may call the very lap of luxury. For, Hilda, I have made it the object of my life ever since poverty came to us, to prevent even the slightest shadow of its wings touching the children. They have had their excellent governess, and their warm schoolroom and snug bedroom. I cut down one of my own fur cloaks to give them really nice winter jackets, and I took special care that the schoolroom table should be as liberal as ever. It is impossible, therefore, for me to understand Judy's silly words about her heart aching."