Pauline. Not so very great, either; just the dearest little auntie in the world. And you don’t seem a bit old. Why, your hair isn’t hardly a bit gray. Besides, there was Mrs. Atherton, in our home town, was married just before I came here, and she was sixty-three.
Aunt P. She was a widow, dear.
Pauline. What difference did that make? They said that Mr. Buffinton was her first lover, but that her father had separated them, and every one was glad to see her married.
Aunt P. Very nice and romantic, dear, but, as I said before, she was a widow, and that makes a great deal of difference. If she had been a maiden lady, every one would have called her silly, and laughed at her.
Pauline. I don’t see why.
Aunt P. Nor I, dear, truly, but the fact remains that they do. It would take quite a strong-minded woman to face it. I couldn’t, I’m sure.
Pauline. But, Auntie——
(Stops abruptly, as bell rings.)
Aunt P. Some one is coming! I——
(Rises, but sits down hastily, as she hears steps.)