“Maybe I ought; but then, you see, I don’t. I never saw her till last Thursday, as you know; while you have lived with her for three years.”
“And hated her all that time!” cried Melville, bitterly.
“Nonsense!” laughed Content.
“True! I—I wish she’d die, or get married!”
Even Grandmother Capers was shocked at this; and spoke reproachfully to her idol.
“You should not say that, darling. Ruth is a good woman. She means well, even if her manner is unpleasant.”
Melville opened his lips to retort, but Content was too loyal to allow this. “Why, Mrs. Capers! Can you really think that? It seems to me Aunt Ruth is so charming. She is so delightfully honest and true. From the first time I looked in her face I felt that I should be safe and happy with her. And as for grandma, I cannot tell you how lovely she appears to me. Papa used to tell such wonderful stories of her goodness that I was almost afraid to come and live with her; I was sure I should shock her a dozen times a day; but if I do she is too kind to show it.”
“Why, Content! She thinks you are perfect. She held you up as an example to me yesterday, till I hated her almost as much as I do my aunt.”
Into the midst of this mutual admiration talk broke a sound which was even more startling than the telegraph reading had been.
Clitter-ty-clatter! Yaw, whoop-la!