“Staring wasn’t thought good breeding in my time,” said Aunt Tom.
“Oh!” said Emily again. “Excuse me— How do you do!” she added, with a vague grasp after her manners.
“Polite—and not too proud,” said Aunt Tom, peering curiously at her. “I’ve been up to the big house with a pair of socks for the b’y but ’twas yourself I wanted to see.”
“Me?” said Emily blankly.
“Yis. The b’y has been talking a bit of you and a plan kem into my head. Thinks I to myself it’s no bad notion. But I’ll make sure before I waste my bit o’ money. Emily Byrd Starr is your name and Murray is your nature. If I give the b’y an eddication will ye marry him when ye grow up?”
“Me!” said Emily again. It seemed to be all she could say. Was she dreaming? She must be.
“Yis—you. You’re half Murray and it’ll be a great step up f’r the b’y. He’s smart and he’ll be a rich man some day and boss the country. But divil a cent will I spend on him unless you promise.”
“Aunt Elizabeth wouldn’t let me,” cried Emily, too frightened of this odd old body to refuse on her own account.
“If you’ve got any Murray in you you’ll do your own choosing,” said Aunt Tom, thrusting her face so close to Emily’s that her bushy eyebrows tickled Emily’s nose. “Say you’ll marry the b’y and to college he goes.”
Emily seemed to be rendered speechless. She could think of nothing to say—oh, if she could only wake up! She could not even run.