Aunt Mary glanced at her sharply.
“That’s what they all say, a’cordin’ to the papers,” she said calmly, “an’ it never is counted as anythin’ but a joke.”
“But I’m not joking,” Janice cried.
“Then you jus’ take a little time an’ think it over,” proposed the old lady,—“I’ll tell you what you can do. You can get me Lucinda because I want to tell her suthin’ and then you and Jack can sit down together an’ think it over anywhere an’ anyhow you like.”
“Do you really want Lucinda,” said Janice, rising to her feet, “or is it something that I can do? You know I’m yours just the same as ever, Aunt Mary. Next to being good to Jack, I want to always be good to you.”
Aunt Mary looked up with a light in her eyes that was fine to see.
“Bless you, my child,” she said heartily. “I know that, but I really want Lucinda, an’ you an’ Jack can take care of yourselves for a while. Leastways, I hope you can. I guess you can. I presume so, anyway.”
It was late that afternoon that Lucinda, looking as if she had been accidentally overtaken by a road-roller, joined Joshua in the potato cellar.
“Well, the sky c’n fall whenever it likes now!” she said, sitting down on an empty barrel with a resigned sigh.
“That’s a comfort to know,” said Joshua.