They had been sitting there in a strained silence. Her aunt jumped up suddenly with a show of impatience and crossing the room to where the cat had attempted to settle down in a comfortable cushion, shoved the surprised little animal away, roughly.
“No place but a good chair will suit that cat,” the woman complained. “Go ’long and snuggle in your own carpet.”
The “carpet” was out in the kitchen in a corner, Gloria remembered, and compared with the chair chosen, was indeed hard and uninviting. But she did not protest. Even a helpless cat was not to be considered in her present upset state of mind.
Her aunt came back from shaking the cushion and chasing the cat, and looked at her sharply.
“I suppose you had better register if you intend going to school,” she said indifferently.
“Intend going to school?” repeated Gloria. “Why, Aunt Harriet! You didn’t imagine I intended to stay from school, did you?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I thought maybe you wouldn’t care so much about school in Sandford—”
“I don’t. I just hate to think of it,” retorted Gloria, “but I’ve got to go. Do you suppose dad would allow me to remain away?” She almost choked on the words.
“Your dad’s a good many miles away now and he left you in my charge, didn’t he?”
Indignation stung Gloria’s cheeks.