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Mrs. Faithful had pepper-and-salt-coloured hair and small dark eyes that snapped like an angry bird's, and a huge double chin. Her nondescript shape resolved itself into a high, peaked lap over which, when not eating hot cakes, her stubby hands seemed eternally clasped. "Mary takes after her pa, poor child," she had told Trudy confidentially. "Lean and lank as a clothes pole!
"We'll go up to the house in Bernard Coyle's jitney," said Rosemary, leading the way around to the side platform. "He will take your trunk checks, Aunt Trudy, and the express man will deliver them." Bernard Coyle ran two of the three Eastshore jitneys and personally conducted the least ancient of his two cars.
"Oh, there's Dolly!" she cried, as she saw the shade go up in the opposite window. "Hello. Happy Birthday!" she called out. Dolly returned the greeting, and the two girls waved their respective photographs at each other, and then both began to get dressed. Dolly, too, had a morning visit from her sister. Trudy looked in on her way down to breakfast.
"If you're going to do it, you may as well learn a becoming fashion." So Trudy taught her little sister how to coil up her yellow, curly mop in a correct fashion, and very becoming it was to Dolly. But it made her look a year or two older than she was. "Oh!" exclaimed her mother, when she saw her, "Where's my baby? I've lost my little girl!"
She laughed so genuinely that Beatrice told herself that Trudy was an unpardonable little fool. "I have stayed at the post for some time, and now that I've the chance to change my recreation to fabrics I'm tempted to try it. I'm sure you do understand and it is with great regret that I leave the office." "It will make it hard for Mr. O'Valley," Beatrice continued, blandly.
Besides, Trudy was a thorn in Mary's flesh and on Sundays the thorn had a chance to assert herself in particularly unendurable fashion.
Then she burnt some scented powder and pulled down the window shades. This constituted getting the establishment in order, the slavey having gone tootling off on a party some days before. Trudy did not refer to the breakfast-table discussion before she left the apartment.
"You have made this place look well," Beatrice said, presently, "It is a perfect tinder box. Papa knows the man who built it." Trudy flushed. "We are merely trying out love in a cliffette," she said, sweetly, "instead of the old-style cottage. We can't expect anything like your apartment. We have that prospect to look forward to.
Moreover, Trudy did not change in her decision to make someone unhappy.
Everything will be serene once more. As for Gay's future I suppose he is likely to bring home anything from a mousetrap to a diamond tiara. I don't pretend to understand his ways." "Of course it isn't like Mrs. O'Valley's wedding," her mother resumed, with a resonant sniffle. "You have been so used to hearing about her ways that poor little Trudy seems cheap.
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