“I—I—of course I will, Aunt Elizabeth, if you ask it. You’ve been awfully kind—and I’ve been no end of trouble to you.”
“Davy!”
“I know—but it’s a shame, hang it all. I’m all right now.”
But the trembling of his hand which rested on the arm of the chair belied his statement.
“Come, Davy, you’re tired. I’ll see you to your room as I used to.”
Together they mounted the stairway, her arm in his.
“Good-night, laddie. If you want anything, call me. I shall hear you.” She kissed his forehead, and patted his shoulder reassuringly. “It will all come right in the end, David. Just have patience with yourself—and me.”
“You! Why, Aunt Bess, if—you weren’t my aunt, I’d—I’d marry you to-morrow!” he exclaimed. “You’re the only woman that ever did amount to shucks, anyway.”
“I ken weel what you mean, Davy Ross,” she replied teasingly, as he turned toward his door. “And I ken wha you be thinkin’ aboot the noo.”
Laughing, he turned toward her again. “Bet you don’t!” he said, assuming her tone of raillery.