“Trust Elizabeth for that. Well, you can write what you like here—and say what you like—and do what you like. Nobody will interfere with you or try to bring you up. I asked you for a visit, not for discipline. Thought likely you’d have enough of that at New Moon. You can have the run of the house and pick a beau to your liking from the Priest boys—not that the young fry are what they were in my time.”
“I don’t want a beau,” retorted Emily. She felt rather disgusted. Old Kelly had ranted about beaux half the way over and here was Aunt Nancy beginning on the same unnecessary subject.
“Don’t you tell me,” said Aunt Nancy, laughing till her gold tassels shook. “There never was a Murray of New Moon that didn’t like a beau. When I was your age I had half a dozen. All the little boys in Blair Water were fighting about me. Caroline here now never had a beau in her life, had you, Caroline?”
“Never wanted one,” snapped Caroline.
“Eighty and twelve say the same thing and both lie,” said Aunt Nancy. “What’s the use of being hypocrites among ourselves? I don’t say it isn’t well enough when men are about. Caroline, do you notice what a pretty hand Emily has? As pretty as mine when I was young. And an elbow like a cat’s. Cousin Susan Murray had an elbow like that. It’s odd—she has more Murray points than Starr points and yet she looks like the Starrs and not like the Murrays. What odd sums in addition we all are—the answer is never what you’d expect. Caroline, what a pity Jarback isn’t home. He’d like Emily—I have a feeling he’d like Emily. Jarback’s the only Priest that’ll ever go to heaven, Emily. Let’s have a look at your ankles, puss.”
Emily rather unwillingly put out her foot. Aunt Nancy nodded her satisfaction.
“Mary Shipley’s ankle. Only one in a generation has it. I had it. The Murray ankles are thick. Even your mother’s ankles were thick. Look at that instep, Caroline. Emily, you’re not a beauty but if you learn to use your eyes and hands and feet properly you’ll pass for one. The men are easily fooled and if the women say you’re not ’twill be held for jealousy.”
Emily decided that this was a good opportunity to find out something that had puzzled her.
“Old Mr. Kelly said I had come-hither eyes, Aunt Nancy. Have I? And what are come-hither eyes?”
“Jock Kelly’s an old ass. You haven’t come-hither eyes—it wouldn’t be a Murray tradish.” Aunt Nancy laughed. “The Murrays have keep-your-distance eyes—and so have you—though your lashes contradict them a bit. But sometimes eyes like that—combined with certain other points—are quite as effective as come-hither eyes. Men go by contraries oftener than not—if you tell them to keep off they’ll come on. My own Nathaniel now—the only way to get him to do anything was to coax him to do the opposite. Remember, Caroline? Have another cooky, Emily?”