“I should say thee had,” retorted the aunt, feeling very decidedly provoked at having so many people disturbed. “Thee has frightened Grandmother Capers half to death with thy uncanny dancing. Come now, at once, and show her who and what thee is. Then, maybe, the old lady can get a bit of rest. Between thee and Melville it will be little enough at the most.”
Paula resented her aunt’s tone and manner: she acknowledged no authority except her own will, and, occasionally, that of her Uncle Fritz.
“You have no right to speak like that to me—none whatever. Besides, I am not going to meet a stranger in this dishabille. I am sorry that I walked in my sleep, but I am not to blame for it.”
The young girl drew herself stiffly away from the firm touch which still held her shoulder, and with an air of offended dignity started to re-enter the house.
Ruth released her clasp, suffering Paula to follow her own inclination; but a keen perception of the ludicrous was so thoroughly awakened that the aunt could not restrain a hearty laugh. Truth was, Ruth Kinsolving was little more than a girl, herself; a wholesome-natured if high-spirited one, and, as mother Amy too well knew, but ill-fitted to rule over a houseful of young folks, like these whom Providence had brought to her door. Doubtless, being blessed with excellent sense, she would find a way for herself out of the puzzle; and a way which would retain her own self-respect while still commanding theirs. But as yet she had not even thought about this way, nor of anything but the immediate needs of her great family.
Paula turned, in a fury; forgetting instantly her determination to show these American relatives what a great lady she was, and becoming the actual reality,—a very quickly offended, untrained girl.
“I do not see occasion for laughter in my misfortune, Aunt Ruth; and I wish that Uncle Fritz had never brought us here. You may as well learn in the beginning that I never wished to come and that I shall go away as soon as possible.”
A sharp retort formed itself in Ruth Kinsolving’s mind, but rested there unspoken.
“I was not laughing at thee, dear little Paula, but at the absurdity of thy attempted dignity, clad just as thee is. It is high time we were both indoors, and thinking less about ourselves and more about our neighbors. Come.”
Aunt Ruth slipped her arm, covered only by its cambric sleeve, about the waist of her niece, and would have guided her affectionally back to her chamber.