"Of course she didn't," grandmother cried, nodding her head triumphantly. "Of course she didn't. She's a Harcourt all over."
I looked down at my little brass ring. I felt that grandmother was wrong.
VII
AUNTIE MAY
Always when I think of Auntie May, I remember sunshine, and the wind blowing, and a lilac bush in purple bloom by the garden gate. We were standing there together, very quiet and confidential, she, tall and slim, and I a little girl who liked to cling to her hand. We had on our best white dresses, for it was Sunday, and her church service was white and violet, and mine was white and gold. We had parasols just alike, and we stood waiting until the first boom rang out from the big bell in the church tower far down the street.