What Miss Rachel and Miss Abbie thought can never be known, for they had no power of thought. Victims of a volcanic visitation do not think,—at least, not coherently, and the Dana ladies were quite helpless, both mentally and physically.
“Dear Auntie,” cooed Dolly, patting the cheek of the one she had attacked, though not knowing her name; “are you glad to see us?”
Miss Rachel stared stupidly at her, but the stare was not reassuring, and Dolly’s heart fell.
“Jolly glad to get here,” cried Dick, loyally trying to carry out Dolly’s plan, as he nearly choked the breath out of the other aunt. Miss Abbie had a little more sense of humour than her sister,—though neither of them was over-burdened with it,—so she said to Dick:
“Then do stop pommeling me, and stand off where I can see what you look like!”
But this was just what Dick was not anxious to do. So he only clung closer, and said, “Dear Auntie, which is your name?”
“I’m your Aunt Abbie,” was the response, not too gently given, “and now stand up, if you please, and stop these monkey-tricks!”
Of course, since she put it that way, Dick had to desist, and he released his struggling aunt, and bravely stood up for inspection.
Miss Rachel, too, had pushed Dolly away from her, and the twins stood, hand in hand, waiting for the verdict. It was an awful moment. The physical exertion of the manner they had chosen of greeting their aunts had made their flushed little faces still redder, and the scratches stood out in bold relief.
Also, their soiled and torn garments looked worse in this elegantly appointed room even than they had in the woods or in the carriage.