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Outwardly, things went on as usual. Miss Mehitable issued orders to Araminta as the commander in chief of an army issues instructions to his subordinates, and Araminta obeyed as faithfully as before, yet with a distinct difference. She did what she was told to do out of gratitude for lifelong care, and not because she felt that she had to.
My mother's name was Araminta, which, as my father truly observed, was "a touch above the common."
"Grandma puts them on the table," suggested Sunny Boy. "Well, I put them on the shelf," said Araminta shortly. "I don't believe in leaving pies around where any one can get 'em." Now Araminta was in a hurry to go home, for it was three o'clock, and every afternoon from three to five she was allowed to spend as she pleased.
"What kind of a hook?" asked Araminta, between spoonfuls. "A novel a really, truly novel." "You mustn't!" she cried, frightened again. "You get burned if you read novels." "Some of them are pretty hot stuff, I'll admit," returned Ralph, missing her meaning, "but, of course, I wouldn't give you that kind. What sort of stories do you like best?" "Daniel in the lions' den and about the ark.
"I think," she said, slowly, "it is probably Arabella or Araminta." "'Way off," said her father; "you're no good at guessing. Kitty, what do you say?" "It ought to be Seraphina," said Kitty, promptly. "She looks like a wax doll." "Wrong again! King, want to guess?" "'Course I do. I think her name is Flossy Flouncy. She looks so dressy and gay."
Now, all her work had gone for naught. Nature had triumphantly reasserted itself, and Araminta had fallen in love. The years stretched before Miss Mehitable in a vast and gloomy vista illumined by no light. No soft step upon the stair, no sunny face at her table, no sweet, girlish laugh, no long companionable afternoons with patchwork, while she talked and Araminta listened.
Miss Mehitable's feet moved swiftly away from the house. She was going to the residence of the oldest and most orthodox deacon in Thorpe's church, to ask for guidance in dealing with her wayward charge, but Araminta never dreamed of this. Dusk came, the sweet, June dusk, starred with fireflies and clouded with great white moths.
Araminta, you see, had so many brothers and sisters younger than herself that she gave advice to every child she met. Sunny Boy was perfectly willing to be good, but he was equally determined to have his saucer pie. It was his own pie, made and intended for him, and Araminta had no business to put it on a shelf out of his reach.
She had even learned to love Araminta with the protecting love which grows out of dependence, and, at the same time, she felt herself stronger; better fitted, as it were, to cope with her own grief. Since coming back to her old home, her thought and feeling had been endlessly and painfully confused.
"I don't know what I've found," sobbed Araminta, from the shelter of his arms, "but I've come, to stay with you always, if you'll let me!" "If I'll let you," murmured Ralph, kissing away her happy tears. "You little saint, it's what I want as I want nothing else in the world." "I know what it is to be married," said Araminta, after a little, her grave, sweet eyes on his. "I asked Mr.
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