“If you please, Great-Aunt Nancy,” said Emily deliberately, “I don’t like to be told I look like other people. I look just like myself.”
Aunt Nancy chuckled.
“Spunk, I see. Good. I never cared for meek youngsters. So you’re not stupid, eh?”
“No, I’m not.”
Great-Aunt Nancy grinned this time. Her false teeth looked uncannily white and young in her old, brown face.
“Good. If you’ve brains it’s better than beauty—brains last, beauty doesn’t. Me, for example. Caroline here, now, never had either brains nor beauty, had you, Caroline? Come, let’s go to supper. Thank goodness, my stomach has stood by me if my good looks haven’t.”
Great-Aunt Nancy hobbled, by the aid of her stick, up the steps and over to the table. She sat at one end, Caroline at the other, Emily between, feeling rather uncomfortable. But the ruling passion was still strong in her and she was already composing a description of them for the blank book.
“I wonder if anybody will be sorry when you die,” she thought, looking intently at Caroline’s wizened old face.
“Come now, tell me,” said Aunt Nancy. “If you’re not stupid, why did you write me such a stupid letter that first time. Lord, but it was stupid! I read it over to Caroline to punish her whenever she is naughty.”
“I couldn’t write any other kind of a letter because Aunt Elizabeth said she was going to read it.”