“Oh, my dear, how you startled me!” cried Aunt Hannah.
“Can’t help it, my dear. I always was an ugly man.”
“My dear, for shame! yes, it’s quite time he was back. I am growing quite uneasy.”
“Been run over perhaps by the train.”
“Oh, my dear!” cried Aunt Hannah in horrified tones. “But how could he be? The railway is not near where he has gone.”
“Of course it isn’t. There, come and sit down and don’t be such an old fidget about that boy. You are spoiling him.”
“That I am sure I am not, my dear.”
“But you are—making a regular Molly of him. He’ll be back soon. I believe if you had your own way you would lead him about by a string.”
“Now that is nonsense, my dear,” cried Aunt Hannah. “How can I help being anxious about him when he is late?”
“Make more fuss about him than if he was our own child.”