"My aunt and I want you to come and make us a little visit," the caller added.
The hush grew awful.
"A little change would be so good for you—you've been shut up so long."
Old Mrs. Croft lifted her two hands towards the ceiling.
"What do you want to take me out of my own house for? Going to do something to it that I wouldn't approve, I expect. Oh, I see it all. There was Macbeth and there was Othello, and now there's my house—What are you going to do to it, anyhow?" The question was pitched so high and sharp that Jane jumped.
"We just want to give you a little change."
"Change! I had a change once. Went to Cuba with my husband and nearly died. I don't want no change of house," with deep meaning in the emphasis; "the change that I want is another change. Change is a great thing to have. My husband never changed. Only his collars. Never no other way."
"You and Aunt Susan are old friends—" suggested Jane.
"Never nothing special," broke in old Mrs. Croft. "My goodness, I do hope your aunt ain't calling me her friend, because if she is, it's a thing I can't allow."
Jane thanked her stars that her powers of mental concentration forbade her mind to wander. "I'm sure if you came to us, you'd enjoy it," she said persuasively; "we've such a pretty bedroom down-stairs, and I'll sleep on the dining-room sofa, so you won't feel lonely."