April 16. Aunt Naomi came in last night almost as soon as I was at home. She should not have been out in the night air, I think, for her cold is really severe, and has kept her shut up in the house for a fortnight. She was so eager for news, however, that she could not rest until she had seen me, and I am away all day.
"Well," was her greeting, "I am glad to see you at home once more. I've begun to feel as if you lived down in that little red house."
I said I had pretty nearly lived there for the last two weeks, but that since Miss Dyer came I had been able to get home at night most of the time.
"How do you like going out nursing?" she asked, thrusting her tongue into her cheek in that queer way she has.
I told her I certainly shouldn't think of choosing it as a profession, at least unless I could go to cleaner places.
"I hear you had Hannah clean up," she remarked with a chuckle.
"How did you hear that?" I asked her. "I thought you had been housed with a cold."
Aunt Naomi's smile was broad, and she swung her foot joyously.
"I've had all my faculties," she answered.
"So I should think. You must keep a troop of paid spies."