After Aunt Lucretia had gone there was a faint tap at my window, which I knew of old. When I raised the sash Eloise stood outside, smiling at me. On the veranda she slipped her arm through mine, and led the way to our old seat under the hickories.
"Jack," she began, and her serious tone seemed to bode no good, "I just couldn't go to sleep until I had talked with you. Aunt Lucretia thinks I'm in bed; just as she used to think we both were when we weren't, Little Brother." She smiled half tenderly. "I think I ought to speak to you. This thing is getting serious, don't you think?"
"It's been that way with me all the time," I said earnestly, "if I could only get you to look at it seriously—"
For reply she thumped my cheek with her thumb and forefinger. It was a trick Aunt Lucretia had used when I had been naughty as a boy, and Eloise knew that nothing made me madder.
"Now, Jack—no nonsense—listen. We must do something—about—"
"Our marriage this fall?" I interrupted.
Eloise laughed. "Isn't it nonsense?"
"Well, I don't know," I said. "She has always said so, and we have always done as she said. I have always found it was the best thing for me," I added.
Eloise pretended indignation. "Well, now, let me tell you, Jack, this is my funeral as well as yours, and for once this isn't the right idea!"
"Oh," said I, "maybe you've grown big enough since I saw you to defy Aunt Lucretia. Well, I haven't; and dear, dear Little Sister," I went on, taking her slim hand in mine with more warmth than she seemed to like, "I have learned to hold my own among men, but Aunt Lucretia is a very different thing! I am not going to defy her, or go contrary to her wishes—I've tried it and know better! And you?"