“Now, don't make it any harder for me,” begged Mr. Saunders, smiling down at her.
Aunt Isabel petulantly drew away her hand.
“You're selfish! And Charlie laid up and all!”
Mr. Saunders outspread his hands in a helpless gesture.
“Well, you know the hard lot of the knight of the road—here to-day, gone to-morrow, never able to stay where his heart would wish!”
Missy caught her breath; how incautiously he talked!
After Mr. Saunders was gone, Aunt Isabel sat relapsed in her porch chair, very quiet. Missy couldn't keep her eyes off of that lovely, apathetic figure. Once Aunt Isabel put her hand to her head.
“Head hitting it up again?” asked Uncle Charlie solicitously.
Aunt Isabel nodded.
“You'd better get to bed, then,” he said. And, despite his wounded toe, he wouldn't let her attend to the shutting-up “chores,” but, accompanied by Missy, hobbled around to all the screen doors himself. Poor Uncle Charlie!