“That is more than I can say,” was my Aunt Kezia’s answer.
“But who is it?” said Fanny, in the same bewildered way.
“O Fanny, what a bat you are!” cried Hatty.
“I wonder you ask,” answered Sophy. “I have seen her fishing-rod for ever so long. Cecilia, of course.”
“Cecilia!” screamed Fanny. “I thought it was some middle-aged, respectable gentlewoman.”
Hatty burst out laughing. I never felt less inclined to laugh. My Aunt Kezia had taken off her spectacles, and was going on with her tucks as if nothing had happened.
“Well, I will think about it,” said Sophy. “I am not sure I shall stay.”
“I shall stay,” announced Hatty. “I expect it will be grand fun. She will fill the house with company—that will suit me; and I shall just look sharp after her and keep her in order.”
“Hatty!” cried Fanny, in a shocked tone.
“I hope you will keep yourself in order,” said my Aunt Kezia, drily. “Little Cary, you have not spoken yet. What do you want to do?”