“What!” gasped Luella. “Was that you? Why, you must be mistaken; I never telephoned to you; that is, I couldn’t get any one to the ’phone.”
“What’s all this about, Luella?” questioned her mother sharply, but Donald interposed.
“Sit down, Aunt Carrie. We are so excited over meeting you at last that we are forgetting to be courteous.” He shoved forth a comfortable chair for his aunt, and another for the blushing, overwhelmed Luella; and then he took Aunt Crete’s hands lovingly, and gently pushed her backward into the most comfortable rocker in the room. “It’s just as cheap to sit down, dear aunt,” he said, smiling. “And you know you’ve had a pretty full day, and must not get tired for to-night’s concert at the Casino. Now, Aunt Carrie, tell us about your ankle. How did you come to sprain it so badly, and how did it get well so fast? We were quite alarmed about you. Is it really better? I am afraid you are taxing it too much to have come down this evening. Much as we wanted to see you, we could have waited until it was quite safe for you to use it, rather than have you run any risks.”
Then it was the mother’s turn to blush, and her thin, somewhat colorless face grew crimson with embarrassment.
“Why, I——” she began; “that is, Luella was working over it, rubbing it with liniment, and all of a sudden she gave it a sort of a little pull; and something seemed to give way with a sharp pain, and then it came all right as good as ever. It feels a little weak, but I think by morning it’ll be all right. I think some little bone got out of place, and Luella pulled it back in again. My ankles have always been weak, anyway. I suffer a great deal with them in going about my work at home.”
“Why, Carrie,” said Aunt Crete, leaning forward with troubled reproach in her face, “you never complained about it.”
A dull red rolled over Mrs. Burton’s thin features again, and receded, leaving her face pinched and haggard-looking. She felt as if she were seeing visions. This couldn’t be her own sister, all dressed up so, and yet speaking in the old sympathetic tone.
“O, I never complain, of course. It don’t do any good.”
The conversation was interrupted by another tap on the door. Donald opened it, and received a large express package. While he was giving some orders to the servant, Mrs. Burton leaned forward, and said in a low tone to her sister:
“For goodness’ sake, Lucretia Ward, what does all this mean? How ever did you get tricked out like that?”