The maid courtesied. She had arranged the tray upon a little table and the spout of the tea pot and the round hole in the middle of the toast-cover were each pouring forth a pleasant suggestion.
Aunt Mary began at once to haul forth her keys.
“Why, Aunt Mary,” Jack cried, wondering if her nose was deaf, too, or whether she didn’t feel hungry, “don’t you see your tea? Or don’t you want any?”
Aunt Mary thumbed her trunk key.
“I want a nightgown,” she said; “maybe I’ll want something else later. Maybe.”
“You’re not going to bed!”
She drew herself up.
“I guess I can if I want to; I guess I can. There’s the bed and here’s me.”
“Whatever are you saying? It isn’t half-past six o’clock.”
“I’m not prayin’ about anything,” said the old lady. “I don’t pray about things. I do ’em when needful. And when I’m tired I go to bed.”