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Updated: May 18, 2025
We don't need any diagram to understand what Auntie is up to. Just one of her old tricks a speedy packin' up and a casual getaway for Jamaica. Say, wouldn't that crack your faith in human nature? And she proceeds to announce her scheme as placid as if it was something she'd thought out special for our benefit. "Excuse me," says I, "but you ain't plannin' on Vee's goin' along, too, are you?"
Anyway, after consultin' one of his lieutenants he gives her the word that if Private Mears don't pull any more cut-up stuff between now and a week from Wednesday he'll probably have forty-eight hours comin' to him. And for a minute there I thought both Vee and I were let in for a fond clinch act with Miss Casey. As it is she takes it out in pattin' Vee's hand and callin' her Dearie.
"He says somebody has been shootin' golf balls at the south side of the buildin' all the forenoon," says I, "and that seventeen panes of glass have, been smashed. He wants to know what he shall do." "Do?" says Old Hickory. "Tell him to send for a glazier." Well, I expect I've gone and done it again. Queered myself with Auntie. Vee's, of course.
She didn't think it right for young ladies to give away their pictures to young men. She was for askin' me how long I'd known Miss Vee, and "There, now, Martha," said Zenobia, "suppose we don't." That's how it is I can guess who it was blew themselves for a corkin' big silver frame, and put Vee's picture in it, and stood it on my bureau.
"Thank goodness!" said that retreating aspect, "that's said and over. Vee's all right. There's nothing happened at all!"
Course, he did dig up a lot of Vee's favorite dahlia bulbs, and he almost undermined a corner of the kitchen wing when he set out to put a choice bone in cold storage, but he was so comical when he tamped the bone down with his nose that Vee didn't complain. "We can have the hole filled in and sodded over next spring," says Vee. "Huh!" I says.
With the help of Vee's set of books and a little promptin' from her I gives him an earful. I even tows him down cellar and points out the various bins and barrels full of stuff we've got stowed away for winter. And next I has to drag him out and exhibit the poultry side line. "Oh, I say!" exclaims Basil. "Isn't that perfectly rippin'! You have fresh eggs right along?"
Those gray eyes of yours, my dear, hold mischief enough to wreck a convention of saints. Ah, blushing, are you? Forgive me. I ought to know better. Let me tell you, though, I've a young nephew with a pair of blue eyes that might be a match for your gray ones. You must allow me to bring him up some day." And I'd like to have had a glimpse of Vee's face just then.
"It's a two-year course," says Vee. "Stick to it," says I. "That'll give me time to take lessons from Westy on how to get an income wished onto me." As it stands, though, Vee's got me distanced. Please, ain't somebody got a plute aunt to spare? Just think!
What's the answer, Vee?" "There's only one," says she. "I'm going to take Helma home with me." "What about Aunty?" says I. At which Vee's lips come together and her shoulders straighten. "I know," says she, "there'll be a row. Aunty's always saying that such affairs should be handled by institutions. But this time well, we'll see. Come, Helma." "Oh, is it true?" gasps the youngster.
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