“And although poor Maggie isn’t really a Blaisdell herself, she’s nearly one; and they’ve got lots of Blaisdell records down there—among Mother Blaisdell’s things, you know. You’ll want to see those.”
“Yes; yes, indeed. I’ll want to see those, of course,” declared Mr. Smith, rising to his feet, preparatory to going to his own room.
CHAPTER VI
POOR MAGGIE
It was some days later that Mr. Smith asked Benny one afternoon to show him the way to Miss Maggie Duff’s home.
“Sure I will,” agreed Benny with alacrity. “You don’t ever have ter do any teasin’ ter get me ter go ter Aunt Maggie’s.”
“You’re fond of Aunt Maggie, then, I take it.”
Benny’s eyes widened a little.
“Why, of course! Everybody’s fond of Aunt Maggie. Why, I don’t know anybody that don’t like Aunt Maggie.”
“I’m sure that speaks well—for Aunt Maggie,” smiled Mr. Smith.
“Yep! A feller can take some comfort at Aunt Maggie’s,” continued Benny, trudging along at Mr. Smith’s side. “She don’t have anythin’ just for show, that you can’t touch, like ’tis at my house, and there ain’t anythin’ but what you can use without gettin’ snarled up in a mess of covers an’ tidies, like ’tis at Aunt Jane’s. But Aunt Maggie don’t save anythin’, Aunt Jane says, an’ she’ll die some day in the poor-house, bein’ so extravagant. But I don’t believe she will. Do you, Mr. Smith?”