“Mr. Denham sent the violets,” Janice said, pointing to a great bowl of lilac and white blossoms.
Just then the doorbell rang, and it was a ten-pound box of candy from Burnett.
Aunt Mary collapsed among her pillows.
“I never did!” she murmured feebly, and then she suddenly exclaimed: “An’ to think of me livin’ up there all my life with plenty of money—” she stopped short. I tell you when you come to New York on a mission and stay for the Bacchanalia it is hard to hold consistently to either standard.
But Janice had gone for her lady’s breakfast, and after the lady had eaten it and had herself dressed for the day’s joys, Jack knocked at the door.
“Well, Aunt Mary,” he roared, when he was let in, “if you don’t look fine! You’re the freshest of the bunch to-day, sure. You’ll be ready for another night to-night, and you’ve only to say where, you know.”
“Granite did my hair,” said his aunt; “you must praise her, not me.”
“And you’ve got your goggles all ready, too,” he continued. “Who sent ’em?”
“Oh, I shan’t wiggle,” said Aunt Mary “although I can’t see how it could hurt if I did.”
“Come on and let’s dress her up,” said Jack to the maid, “Glory! what fun!”