“And, Katherine, you bought the typewriter. You are responsible for its being in the house, so I really don’t think you ought to blame me for this complication. I know it was foolish of me ever to tell Aunt Sophia, but I was so taken aback when I heard that she was coming for five months, and was going to bring all those things with her, including that patronizing Ellen Higgins, whom I can’t bear, that I said the first thing that came into my head. I thought if she used ours,—yours, I mean,—it would be one thing less to bring with her.”
“I don’t see why you took the news so meekly,” said Katherine. “Why didn’t you tell her right up and down that she couldn’t come?”
“Oh, of course Honor couldn’t do that!” said Victoria. “It would have been very rude, and, besides, Katherine, she is our own aunt.”
“Very well, then, you can give up your room to her, and you can be her secretary. It is easy for you to say we ought to have her here, for you don’t have to do anything. I have to give up my dear room, which I love because it was father’s, and go to that hot third-story one, I suppose. As for the typewriter, it is simply out of the question. I can’t use it, and I won’t learn to use it just to please Aunt Sophia; and if Honor is going to keep flinging it in my face, she can keep on flinging, that is all. And now it is time for me to go.”
She picked up her music case and was soon walking rapidly away from them across the lawn.
“What are we to do about it?” sighed Honor. “I knew Katherine would be frantic, and I suppose it is provoking for her, but I don’t see why she need be so furious with me.”
“Oh, never mind!” said Victoria, looking after Katherine’s hurrying figure. “Katherine’s bark is worse than her bite, you know, and she will probably have gotten over some of it, before she comes back. I am sorry for her scholars, though, this afternoon! But, Honor, I have an idea.”
“What is it, Vic? If it is a cheering one, as I suppose it is, do hurry and tell me, for I feel bowed to the earth with gloom.”
“I will learn to use the typewriter, and I will be Aunt Sophia’s secretary through the summer. I have been wild to try it, but I have had so much to do, I couldn’t. I will learn to use it before she comes and practise on it in secret, after she gets here, and by the time school is over, I shall be ready for work. She can’t expect any of us to do it before June, while we are so busy, and we can make Katherine’s music an excuse for her not to do it at all. She will have to practise very hard through the summer, we can say. You write a nice note to Aunt Sophia and tell her how it is, so that she may be prepared.”
“Oh, Vic, what a dear you are! You do help me out of so many difficulties. Do you really think, though, that you can learn to use it in so short a time?”