“Give me suthin’ to pound with!” cried her enthusiastic audience. “Oh, Granite, I ain’t been so happy since I was home! Whatever you want you can have, only don’t ever leave me alone with Lucinda again.”
Janice was catching her tired breath, but she answered with a smile.
“Can’t you get my Sunday umbrella out of the closet now an’ do a parasol dance?” the insatiate demanded; “one of those where you shoot it open an’ shut when people ain’t expectin’.”
The maid went to the closet and brought out the Sunday umbrella; but its shiny black silk did not appear to inspire any fluffy maneuvres, so she utilized it in the guise of a broadsword and did something that savored of the Highlands, and seemed to rebel bitterly at the length of her skirt. Aunt Mary writhed around in bliss—utter and intense.
“I feel like I was livin’ again,” she said, heaving a great sigh of content. “I tell you I’ve suffered enough, since I came back, to know what it is to have some fun again. Now, Granite, I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” when the girl sat down to rest; “you write for those cigarettes while I take a little nap and afterwards we’ll get the Universal Knowledge book and learn how to play poker. You don’t know how to play poker, do you?”
“A little,” cried the maid.
“Well, I want to learn how,” said the old lady, “an’ we’ll learn when—when I wake up.”
Janice nodded assent.
“Excuse me shuttin’ my eyes,” said Aunt Mary—and she was asleep in two minutes.