“Aunt Susanna couldn’t understand the lights, and she came downstairs.”
“Where—where is Ally?” asked Ogden, still stunned.
“Asleep, I suppose,” Hugh sobered.
“Intact, then?” Ogden looked questioning.
“Of course. She shared in the big surprise. Aunt Susanna told her I was her nephew—Ally had seen Carol’s letter, too.”
Ogden’s alert brain grasped the possible scene. “Ah! Perhaps she had thought that she was the one to provide the surprise.”
“Perhaps,” said Hugh vaguely; then impulsively, “Don’t go home, Ogden. Stay and be happy with us awhile. I told Aunt Susanna I wanted to go away, but the idea seemed to hurt her.”
John Ogden began to nurse his knee, and rock back and forth reflectively, keeping up occasional bursts of low, nervous laughter.
“It won’t hurt her to have me go away,” he said. “That explains all those side-winders and innuendoes. Ha, ha, it is a good joke on the lady. It gives her the nettle-rash that I got away with it, at the same time that she’s glad of it.” Ogden’s eyes were bright as he continued to consider. “And Grimshaw! Oh, Grimshaw! Draw a veil.” At this, his laughter threatened to grow violent. He buried his face in the satin cushions.