“Granite?” said Aunt Mary. “What a funny idea to name you that! Did they call you for the tinware or for the rocks?”
“I don’t know,” shrieked Janice, who was busily occupied in unpacking the traveler’s trunk.
Her new mistress watched her with a critical eye at first, but it became a more or less sleepy eye as the warmth of the tea meandered slowly through its owner. There was a battle within Aunt Mary’s brain; she wanted to please Jack, and she was almost dead with sleep.
“Do you think that I ought to try and go out with my nephew to-night?” she asked Janice.
“If it was me, I should go,” cried the maid.
“I never was called slow before,” Aunt Mary said, bridling. “I’ll thank you to remember your place, young woman.”
Janice explained.
“Oh! I didn’t hear plainly,” said Aunt Mary. “I don’t always. Well go or not go, I’ve got to sleep first. I’m dreadfully sleepy, and I’ve always been a great believer in sleepin’ when you’re sleepy.”
The fact of the sleepiness was so evident that no attempt was made to gainsay it. Janice brought down a quilt from the closet and tucked her charge up luxuriously on the great bed. Five minutes later she was in dreamland.
Jack came in about seven and looked at her.