The next day Aunt Mary slept until noon, and then opened her eyes and simultaneously declared:
“Next summer I’m goin’ to have an automobile!”
Then she looked about and saw that she had addressed the air, which made her more mad than ever. She rang her bell violently, and Arethusa left the lunch table so hastily that she reached the bedroom half-choked.
“Next summer I’m goin’ to have an automobile,” said the old lady angrily. “Now, get me some breakfast.”
Her niece went out quickly, and a maid was sent in with tea and toast and eggs at once. Their effect was to brace the invalid up and make the lot of those about her yet more wearing.
“I shall run it myself,” she vowed, when Arethusa returned; “an’ I bet they clear out when they see me comin’.”
It did seem highly probable.
“I don’t know how I can live if I don’t get away from here soon,” she declared a few minutes later. “You don’t appreciate what life is, Arethusa. Seems like I’ll go mad with wantin’ to be somewhere else. I can see Jack gets his disposition straight from me.”
There was a sigh and a pause.
“I shall die,” Aunt Mary then declared with violence, “if I don’t have a change. Arethusa, you’ve got to write to Jack, and tell him to get me Granite.”