“What makes you so restless tonight?” demanded Aunt Elizabeth, in high displeasure. “Are you taking a cold?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Then go to sleep. I can’t bear such wriggling. One might as well have an eel in bed—O—W!”
Aunt Elizabeth, in squirming a bit herself, had put her own foot against Emily’s icy ones.
“Goodness, child, your feet are like snow. Here, put them on the gin-jar.”
Aunt Elizabeth pushed the gin-jar over against Emily’s feet. How lovely and warm and comforting it was!
Emily worked her toes against it like a cat. But she suddenly knew she could not wait for morning.
“Aunt Elizabeth, I’ve got something to confess.”
Aunt Elizabeth was tired and sleepy and did not want confessions just then. In no very gracious tone she said,