“She’s awful mad,” Lucinda said to Joshua. “The doctor says she’ll have to stay in bed.”
“She won’t stay in bed long,” said Joshua.
“The doctor says if she don’t stay in bed she’ll die,” said Lucinda.
“She won’t die,” said Joshua.
Lucinda looked at Joshua and felt a keen desire to throw her flatiron at him. The world always thinks that the Lucindas have no feelings; the world never knows how near the flatirons come to the Joshuas often and often.
Arethusa came for two days and looked the situation well over.
“I think I won’t stay,” she said to Lucinda, “but you must write me twice a week and I’ll write the others.”
Then Arethusa departed and Lucinda remained alone to superintend things and be superintended by Aunt Mary.
Aunt Mary’s superintendence waxed extremely vigorous almost at once. She had out her writing desk, and wrote Jack a letter, as a consequence of which everything published in New York was mailed to his aunt as soon as it was off the presses. Lucinda was set reading aloud and, except when the mail came, was hardly allowed to halt for food and sleep.
“My heavens above,” said the slave to Joshua, “it don’t seem like I can live with her!”