Aunt Barbara’s room was in the back building, and the entrance to it was on the first landing to the front stairs. The old lady had chosen that room, when she came to Mrs. Lee’s, because no one had ever occupied it; for she said, “I never did turn anybody out, and I never mean to.”
There Aunt Barbara had collected about her all her favorite pieces of old-fashioned furniture, her dark mahogany secretary-bureau, with its bright brass rings held fast in the mouths of wrinkled old brass faces, and her curtained bed, with all its festoons and fringes.
When Hatty stepped into the room, she saw Aunt Barbara sitting bolt-upright in a stuff, straight-backed chair, and looking not much in the humor for little visitors.
“Aunt Barbara, mother thought perhaps you would like some one with you this morning, and so I have brought in my Sunday books, and will sit here, if you like,” said Hatty, in a cheerful tone.
“I don’t mind your sitting here, if you choose,” was the old lady’s reply.
Hatty did not know what to say next, so she mounted into one of the high, stiff chairs, and took up a book and tried to read. Her eyes would wander to Aunt Barbara, sitting up straight and still, and looking out of the window at the sky. At length Hatty said, “Do lie down, Aunt Barbara; I am sure you would be more comfortable. Let me fix your pillows nicely for you.”
“I never go to bed when I can sit up. I was not brought up to loll about and make myself sick by being lazy,” said Aunt Barbara.
Hatty tried to read for a few moments more; then Aunt Barbara moved, and she looked at her again.
The old lady evidently wanted something she could not find in her pocket, and yet did not feel like getting up.