'Yes, dear,' said Aunt Annie intimately, in a tone to show how well she knew that poor women must always cling together in seasons of stress and times of oppression.
Mrs. Knight hurried out of the room. Mr. Knight cherished an injury. He felt aggrieved because Susan could not see that, though six months ago she had been entitled to her whims and fancies, she was so no longer. He felt, in fact, that Susan was taking an unfair advantage of him. The logic of the thing was spread out plainly and irrefutably in his mind. And then, quite swiftly, the logic of the thing vanished, and Mr. Knight rose and hastened after his wife.
'You deserved it, you know,' said Aunt Annie to Tom.
'Did I?' The child seemed to speculate.
They both stared at the baby, who lay peacefully in his cradle, for several minutes.
'Annie, come here a moment.' Mr. Knight was calling from another room.
'Yes, Henry. Now, Tom, don't touch the cradle. And if baby begins to cry, run and tell me.'
'Yes, auntie.'
And Aunt Annie went. She neglected to close the door behind her; Tom closed it, noiselessly.