“Good!” nodded Billy. “That will give time to put little Kate through her paces as flower girl.”
“Yes, and it will give Big Kate time to try to make your breakfast a supper, and your roses pinks—or sunflowers,” cut in a new voice, dryly.
“Cyril!” chorussed the three ladies in horror, adoration, and amusement—according to whether the voice belonged to Aunt Hannah, Marie, or Billy.
Cyril shrugged his shoulders and smiled.
“I beg your pardon,” he apologized; “but Rosa said you were in here sewing, and I told her not to bother. I'd announce myself. Just as I got to the door I chanced to hear Billy's speech, and I couldn't resist making the amendment. Maybe you've forgotten Kate's love of managing—but I haven't,” he finished, as he sauntered over to the chair nearest Marie.
“No, I haven't—forgotten,” observed Billy, meaningly.
“Nor I—nor anybody else,” declared a severe voice—both the words and the severity being most extraordinary as coming from the usually gentle Aunt Hannah.
“Oh, well, never mind,” spoke up Billy, quickly. “Everything's all right now, so let's forget it. She always meant it for kindness, I'm sure.”
“Even when she told you in the first place what a—er—torment you were to us?” quizzed Cyril.
“Yes,” flashed Billy. “She was being kind to you, then.”