“She’s coming to the back door,” said Felicity, with an agitated glance around the kitchen. “I told you, Dan, that you should have shovelled the snow away from the front door this morning. Cecily, set those pots in the pantry quick—hide those boots, Felix—shut the cupboard door, Peter—Sara, straighten up the lounge. She’s awfully particular and ma says her house is always as neat as wax.”
To do Felicity justice, while she issued orders to the rest of us, she was flying busily about herself, and it was amazing how much was accomplished in the way of putting the kitchen in perfect order during the two minutes in which Great-aunt Eliza was crossing the yard.
“Fortunately the sitting-room is tidy and there’s plenty in the pantry,” said Felicity, who could face anything undauntedly with a well-stocked larder behind her.
Further conversation was cut short by a decided rap at the door. Felicity opened it.
“Why, how do you do, Aunt Eliza?” she said loudly.
A slightly bewildered look appeared on Aunt Eliza’s face. Felicity perceived she had not spoken loudly enough.
“How do you do, Aunt Eliza,” she repeated at the top of her voice. “Come in—we are glad to see you. We’ve been looking for you for ever so long.”
“Are your father and mother at home?” asked Aunt Eliza, slowly.
“No, they went to town today. But they’ll be home this evening.”
“I’m sorry they’re away,” said Aunt Eliza, coming in, “because I can stay only a few hours.”