“I’m comin’ in and rest a few minutes,” she said. “I’m tired to death and I’m pounded to pieces.”
Her husband turned toward her. He opened his lips to introduce Eileen. His wife forestalled him.
“So this is the Eileen you have been ravin’ about for years,” she said. “I thought you said she was a pretty girl.”
Eileen’s soul knew one sick instant of recoil. She looked from James Heitman to Caroline, his wife, and remembered that he had a habit of calling her “Cally.” All that paint and powder and lip-stick and brilliantine could do to make the ponderous, big woman more ghastly had been done, but in the rush of the long ride through which her husband had forced her, the colours had mixed and slipped, the false waves were displaced. She was not in any condition to criticize the appearance of another woman. For one second Eileen hesitated, then she lifted her shaking hands to her hat.
“I have been hounded out of my senses,” she said apologetically, “and have been so terribly anxious for fear you wouldn’t get here on time. Please, Aunt Caroline, let us go to a hotel, some place where we can straighten up comfortably.”
“Well, what’s your hurry?” said Aunt Caroline coolly. “You’re not a fugitive from justice, are you? Can’t a body rest a few minutes and have a drink, even? Besides, I am going to see what kind of a place you’ve been living in, and then I’ll know how thankful you’ll be for what we got to offer.”
Eileen turned and threw open the door. The big woman walked in. She looked down the hall, up the stairway, and went on to the living room. She gave it one contemptuous glance, and turning, came back to the door.
“All right, Jim,” she said brusquely. “I have seen enough. If you know the best hotel in the town, take me there. And then, if Eileen’s in such a hurry, after we have had a bite we’ll start for home.”
“Thank you, Aunt Caroline, oh, thank you!” cried Eileen.
“You needn’t take the trouble to ‘aunt’ me every time you speak to me,” said the lady. “I know you’re my niece, but I ain’t goin’ to remind you of it every time I speak to you. It’s agein’, this ‘auntie’ business. I don’t stand for it, and as for a name, I am free to confess I always like the way Jim calls me ‘Cally.’ That sounds younger and more companionable than ‘Caroline.’”