"Don't talk about snakes, dearie," pleaded Aunt Trudy, shuddering over her knitting. "They are such ugly, horrid squirmy things."
"Oh, no they're not Aunt Trudy," said Sarah earnestly. "That's because you're not used to them. Let me show you the one I've got in my pocket—"
To her aunt's horror, Sarah unbuttoned the pocket of her middy blouse and pulled out a little dangling dark object.
"Hugh!" shrieked Aunt Trudy, knocking over her chair as she rose hastily. "Hugh make her stop! Ow! Rosemary, Winnie, take that awful thing away, quick!"
In spite of her sympathy for Aunt Trudy who was white to the lips with fright, Rosemary wanted to laugh, as Sarah, not realizing that her aunt was really in terror, and intent only on winning understanding for her snake, continued to advance on the unhappy lady, the spotted snake dangling from her hand.
"Sarah!" Doctor Hugh managed to halt the march of his determined small sister. "Sarah, take that snake away at once. At once, do you hear me? Aunt Trudy is afraid of snakes."
"Well, she wouldn't be, if she knew about 'em," insisted Sarah. "I only want to show her."
"You can't show her—lots of people are frightened by the sight of snakes," replied the doctor. "Take your snake out of the room this minute."
Still Sarah lingered.
"It's dead," she offered humbly. "A dead snake won't hurt Aunt Trudy will it?"