“My mother doesn’t make kisses so common,” retorted Felicity. “But she gives us pie for dinner every day.”
“So does Aunt Olivia.”
“Yes, but look at the difference in the size of the pieces! And Aunt Olivia only gives you skim milk. My mother gives us cream.”
“Aunt Olivia’s skim milk is as good as your mother’s cream,” cried the Story Girl hotly.
“Oh, girls, don’t fight,” said Cecily, the peacemaker. “It’s such a nice day, and we’ll have a nice time if you don’t spoil it by fighting.”
“We’re NOT fighting,” said Felicity. “And I like Aunt Olivia. But my mother is just as good as Aunt Olivia, there now!”
“Of course she is. Aunt Janet is splendid,” agreed the Story Girl.
They smiled at each other amicably. Felicity and the Story Girl were really quite fond of each other, under the queer surface friction that commonly resulted from their intercourse.
“You said once you knew a story about the Awkward Man,” said Felix. “You might tell it to us.”
“All right,” agreed the Story Girl. “The only trouble is, I don’t know the whole story. But I’ll tell you all I do know. I call it ‘The Mystery of the Golden Milestone.’”