"My daughter Posie has Ti—Titian red curls," said the Rich Man coldly. "And the most beautiful brown eyes that mortal man has ever seen! And a skin so fair that——"
"That's why I think it would rest her so," said our Aunt Esta, "to be ugly outside—instead of inside for a while."
"Eh?" said the Rich Man.
He glared at our Aunt Esta.
Our Aunt Esta glared at him.
Out in the kitchen suddenly the most beautiful smell happened. The smell was soup! Spiced Tomato Soup! It was as though the whole stove had bloomed! My Father came to the door. "What's it all about?" he said. He saw the Rich Man. The Rich Man saw him. "Why, how do you do?" said my Father. "Why, how do you do?" said the Rich Man. They bowed. There was no room on the Dining Room table to put the dishes. There was no room anywhere for anything. We had to eat in the kitchen. My Mother made griddle cakes. The Rich Man stirred the batter. He seemed to think it was funny. Carol had to sit on a soap-box. Our Aunt Esta sat on the edge of a barrel with her stockings swinging. It made her look not so strict. "All the same," worried the Rich Man, "I don't see just why you fixed the price at two hundred dollars and forty-three cents?—Why not two hundred dollars and forty-five cents? Or even the round sum two hundred and one dollars?"
Our Aunt Esta looked pretty mad. "I will be very glad—I'm sure," she said, "to submit an itemized bill."
"Oh, nonsense!" said the Rich Man. "It was just your mental processes I was wondering about.—The thing, of course, is worth any money—if it works!"
"If it works?" cried our Aunt Esta.
The Rich Man jumped up and strode fiercely to the Dining Room door.