“After all, Granite,” she said dreamily, “there’s nothin’ like gettin’ stretched out to think it over—is there?”
But Janice was turning out the lights.
Chapter Fifteen
Aunt Mary Enthralled
Jack’s aunt slept long and dreamlessly again. That thrice-blessed sleep which follows nights abroad in the metropolis.
When, toward four o’clock, Aunt Mary opened her eyes, she was at first almost as hazy in her conceptions as she had found herself upon the previous day.
“I feel as if the automobile was runnin’ up my back and over my head,” she said, thoughtfully passing her hand along the machine’s imaginary course. Then she rang her bell and Janice appeared from the room beyond.
“I guess you’d better give me some of that that you gave me yesterday,” the elderly lady suggested; “what do you think?”
“Yes, indeed,” said Janice—and went at once and brought it in separate glasses on a tray, and mixed it by pouring, while Aunt Mary looked on with an intuitive understanding that passed instinct and bordered on a complete comprehension of things to her hitherto unknown.
“They’d ought to advertise that,” she said, as she set down the empty glass a few seconds later. “There’d be a lot of folks who’d be glad to know there was such a thing when they first wake up mornin’s after—after—well, mornin’s after anythin’. It’s jus’ what you want right off; it sort of runs through your hair and makes you begin to remember.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Janice, turning to put down the tray, and then crossing the room to seek something on the chimney-piece.