Heloise could only look at her.
“You’re Aunt Lizzie and your wretched criminal husband, or whatever he is (I can only hope for the best) is Uncle Isaac. Go right down into the kitchen and tell him.”
“Let me get this right,” said Heloise slowly. “I am Aunt Lizzie ... you want me to be your Aunt Lizzie.... and that poor child is to be ...?”
“Uncle Isaac.”
“I haven’t gotten it right yet,” said Heloise, “this is a cinema lot ... you’re playing somep’n,” she had forgotten momentarily that she was a lady of fashion and culture. “I’m Aunt Lizzie....”
She sank under the burden that had been imposed upon her.
“You’re all crazy, that’s what. I’m an American citizen, or near American.... Toronto, but I live so close that I could throw a stone across the border. And I’m Aunt Lizzie!”
CHAPTER XIV
Gordon was playing absently with potato peelings when she came in.
“You’re Uncle Isaac!” she said in a strained, hazy fashion.