“No,” said Lanty, “I don’t believe it was. What did you mix everything up for?”
“How did I know they were to be separated? What did you feed the dog with the roast for?”
“Did you ever see such an imp as that Sally?”
“Never,” said Sidney. “But Temperance squelched her!”
“She did,” said Lanty. “I say, wasn’t she ripping?”
Meanwhile Temperance’s short-lived wrath had died away, and she was pressing food upon Sally in quantities calculated to appal any but a Blueberry Alley child.
Temperance rose in the midst of her second cup of tea, and, going up stairs, came down with a large fresh bandana handkerchief. She went out to where Lanty and Sidney stood talking.
“Here’s the handkerchief you wanted to keep the dust out of your back,” she said with ill-assumed hauteur. Lanty took it with laughing penitence on his face.
“I say, Aunty,” he said, “would you ask Mabella to put it on?”
Miss Tribbey’s severity relaxed; a vain-glorious satisfaction stole over her face in a smirk. To have Lanty call her Aunty!