I smiled in pleased anticipation of a good long talk with my husband, in which I could explain everything.
"Why, you know at the wedding I saw that Artie was very much taken with her,—and—"
"First, tell me how she came to sit with the family, inside the white ribbon?"
"Why, she wrote and asked if she couldn't. She said she loved me so she felt as if she were losing a sister, and that she wanted to sit with mother and mourn with the family."
Aubrey grinned and I felt foolish.
"And you believed her, you silly little cat!"
"It does sound idiotic to repeat it, but it read as if she meant it," I said, blushing.
"Never mind, dear," said the Angel. "You are all right."
Now, when Aubrey says I am "all right," it means that I am all wrong, but that he loves me in spite of it.
"Bee says," I said between laughing and crying, "that I am just like a stray dog. A pat on the head and a few kind words, and I'd follow anybody off."