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Grandma's lips were getting rather white with pain from her foot, but she laughed again, and said, brightly: "Yes, indeed, little maid, I will be all right in a week or two." "A week!" groaned Cricket. "I thought you were going to say to-morrow." Auntie Jean had slipped off grandma's stocking, and was bathing her rapidly swelling foot with arnica.
"Perhaps you know best, after all, you silly children." I'll bet we made a fine group, too, the three of us, Auntie in the middle, givin' us the fond clinch. "But such impudence of you, to do it right here!" she goes on. "No one but you, Torchy, would have thought of that." "Had to," says I, "with everything else barred. I suspected it might bump you some, but " "Pardon me," breaks in Mr.
Emily had sent it, together with a little book that she had borrowed some time previously, and the whole was so done up in stiff paper that Miss Christie Grant supposed herself to be returning the book only. "So you gave it to John, auntie," said Emily, when Miss Christie came back, "and told him I was going out, and he read the note?" "Yes," answered Miss Christie curtly.
I 'lowed you'd make out ter fix hit some way so Mr. Burns won't have ter go ter prison. Couldn't you-all send send a telegraph ter the bank man, er somethin'? I'd git it inter Thompsonville for you, ma'm; an' Mr. Burns, he needn't never know nothin' 'bout hit." Auntie Sue was dressing when Judy finished speaking.
I suppose if it's all been a comedy, I just wake up right there next to Auntie Em. If it's a tragedy, I'm dead, right? That's how they all have to end it's in the union rules. Unless there's a twist right after that ending, where the good ending turns sour or vice verse... if it's a comedy, who writes God's lines? Or a dark comedy.
"Well, good-bye, Auntie," said June; "I must get on," and kissing her aunts, she looked defiantly round the room, said "Good-bye" again, and went. A breeze seemed to pass out with her, as if everyone had sighed. The third sensation came before anyone had time to speak: "Mr. James Forsyte." James came in using a stick slightly and wrapped in a fur coat which gave him a fictitious bulk.
"Not me," says I. "I'm too polite. But when you unload duplicates of the late Oliver Cromwell's writing-desk you ought to see that both don't go to friends of Colonel Brassle. Messy old party, the Colonel, and I understand he's tryin' to induce 'em to make trouble. Course, you might explain all that to Auntie; but in her present state of mind Eh? Must you be goin'? Any word to send up?
Cricket was much disposed to stay and make sure that he came up, but she was finally persuaded to come down with the rest. "Isn't it funny how his voice came from all over?" she said, at the supper-table. "Probably he was right there under the trunkroom floor all the time. He was a regular philanthropist." "A regular what?" asked grandma and Auntie Jean, together. "A philanthropist.
And I'll find something for Shirley and Joy to do." Auntie Gibbs was never so happy as she was at times when she had several people to keep busy. Kit was afraid to touch the exquisite glassware and silver and beautiful dishes that Bet handled with unconcern. "Aren't you afraid you'll break them, Bet?" asked the girl. "I used to be terribly afraid, but now I am used to them and I'm very careful.
The old room, the old things, the same child, the same love, all returned to their living state, without change or difference between her and them. In her friend's house she had felt that her childhood's companion was dead. In her child's room she knew that the boy's "Auntie" was not dead at all. In anguished tones she said: "Sister, why do you dread me? See, I am as you knew me."
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