Eve smiled devastatingly. “Pleased to meet you,” said my relative.
“It was awfully sweet of you to let me come along with Sandy,” Eve said. “I hope we aren’t going to be a lot of bother.”
“Well, I guess everybody’s a bother when it comes to that,” returned Aunt Cal not too ungraciously. “It’s a good deal of bother to live anyway, what with three meals a day winter and summer.”
“Do you know I’ve often thought of that very thing myself,” agreed Eve. “If it wasn’t for eating, what loads of spare time we’d have to do a lot of extra exciting things.”
Aunt Cal looked as if precisely this view of the matter had not occurred to her before. But all she said was, “Come in, supper’s on the stove.”
The kitchen was small and painfully neat; the same scrubbed look was everywhere. We washed our hands at the sink at Aunt Cal’s direction, as supper, she said, had already stood about as long as it could, and sat down at a blue and white oilcloth covered table. It was a good supper, though plain, as Aunt Cal had warned me. Baked beans, bread and butter, tea and applesauce. Eve and I chattered about our trip, while Aunt Cal drank strong tea and said little.
It was nearly dark by the time we had finished eating everything that was on the table. The noisily ticking alarm clock on the kitchen shelf said ten minutes past eight. “I expect you’ll want to go to bed early after your long trip,” Aunt Cal remarked as she began to clear the table. She took one of the shining glass lamps from the shelf and, though it wasn’t yet dark enough to light it, led the way upstairs.
“This is the spare room,” she said with some pride, throwing open a door at the end of the short passage. It was not large, but its prim, cool order presented so pleasant a contrast to the clutter of departure that we had left behind us that morning that we both heaved an involuntary sight of relief. “Oh, it’s lovely,” Eve breathed. “And that bed looks big enough for six giants.”
A faint look of dismay flitted across our hostess’ countenance at the suggested picture. “I guess it’ll hold two your size,” she said dryly. And added, “Breakfast’s at seven sharp. Goodnight.”
As the door closed, I sank weakly upon the bed. “I feel somehow,” I said, “as if there’d been a death in the family.”