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Updated: June 15, 2025
"But," he burst forth suddenly, "some day you whites will pay. Some day the Japs or the Jews will do to you Americans what you've done to us." "Who cares!" cried Olga, pertly. "Have a pickle, Charlie, and cheer up." She pushed the pickle dish toward him. "Or some catsup," suggested Gustus, depositing the bottle by Charlie's plate. "Or a sardine," added Margery.
"What better clue could you want?" asked Mrs. Gustus. "We will take Christina round the sea-coast." "Looking for silver cliffs and a golden sea," sighed Kew. I don't know if I have mentioned or conveyed to you that Mrs. Gustus was a determined woman. At any rate she was, and it would therefore be waste of time to describe the gradual defeat of Kew.
Anonyma said: "When I think of those old fairy-like German songs, I feel as if I had lost a bit of my heart and shall never find it again. That is what I regret most about this War. It is bad art." "Art, indeed," said Cousin Gustus. "Why, every time they steal a picture they get an Iron Cross.
Charlie, Gustus and me do the cooking. You ladies are company and don't have to do anything except wash the dishes and make your own beds." "Gee!" exclaimed Lydia. "I'd rather cook than wash dishes, any day." "I never wash dishes," protested Margery. "I can't do it either," said Olga. "Can you boys really cook?" asked Miss Towne, in her sharp way. "Yes, Ma'am!" replied Kent.
"I don't see why you say three," objected Gustus. "Ask me and say four." The young people laughed and looked at Miss Towne, half startled by Gustus' audacity. Miss Towne herself was blushing and Olga exclaimed, "Why, Miss Towne, you are good looking when you blush! And I don't believe you're so frightfully old!" It was true.
So Jay, whose refuge from most ills was talk, went to see a friend. She had many friends in the Brown Borough, and most of them were what Mrs. Gustus would call "undeserving." Mrs. Gustus has a very high mind; she and the C.O.S. are dreadfully grown-up institutions, I think; they forget what it feels like to have a good rampageous kick against the pricks.
During the summer the complaint hibernated, and ceased to interest either doctors or relations, which was naturally hard to bear. To these trials you may add the disgraceful behaviour of his young cousin Jay, and admit that Cousin Gustus had every excuse for encouraging pessimism of the most pronounced type.
"First, that Anonyma doesn't really want to kiss the Spring; second, that I don't really want convalescent treatment; third, that Jay doesn't really want to be traced." When Mrs. Gustus did not know the answer to an objection she left it unanswered. This is, of course, the simplest way. She snapped her notebook. "Oh, Kew," she said, "you promised you'd be an angel."
Apart from the mutual attitude of Kew and Jay, who possessed something between them that might be called good faith, there was hardly any trust included in that family relationship. Cousin Gustus distrusted youth. He thought young people were always either lying to him or laughing at him, and indeed they often were. Only not so often as he thought.
Why should I try to conceal the fact? I will not have a pair of rimless ghosts haunting my face. I will wear spectacles without shame." But the real truth was that the tortoise-shell rims were more becoming to her. Mrs. Gustus was known to her husband's family as Anonyma. The origin of this habit was an old joke, and I have forgotten the point of it.
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