In the cozy way a girl has of chumming with her own confidence, Gloria went on musing. She was moving her things back to the guest room. As she had been the first guest entertained in it she felt a sort of natural proprietorship over the rather small room, furnished with odds and ends left from other quarters, and therefore presenting the nondescript effect of a household orphan.
But Gloria felt at home within its confines. There was there no sense of intrusion, and the old red and white quilt was much more sociable with its diamonds, squares and other unique characters, than had been Hazel’s yellow and white comfortable, with its edge covered in forbidding white cheese cloth.
“Gloria!” called her aunt from the hall. “You will be late for school. What ever are you doing?”
“Just moving back, auntie,” replied Gloria. “You don’t mind, do you? I got sort of attached to the other room,” she added.
She fancied she could see the look of relief with which her aunt replied: “Just as you like, Glory dear, but don’t be late for school.”
It was exciting to hear her name called out as “Glory dear.” No doubt the aunt had also liked to be called aunty. The magic of accord was started. Both talked merrily and almost excitedly as Gloria ate a better breakfast than she had been accustomed to in her exile.
“Have a little jelly on your bread, Glory,” urged her aunt. “You are none too plump, and jelly is fattening.”
“Thanks, aunty, but don’t tempt me to grow out of my clothes,” replied Gloria happily, smoothing her blouse affectionately.
“I was so sorry you did not see Hazel. But she was in a dreadful hurry,” continued the aunt. “I guess boarding schools have their drawbacks as well as other schools. She couldn’t wait for tea—would have been put on probation if she was a half hour late,” declared Mrs. Towers, in a perfect race of words. She was plainly eager to be very kind to Gloria.
“Yes, I was sorry not to have seen her,” replied Gloria truthfully. She looked hard at her coffee-cake trying to forget the dark closet corner.