“Of course.”
“She hasn’t gone to Heaven, then—or anything awful like that?” suggested Shan’t cheerfully.
“My dear Shan’t, what an awful idea!—I mean—it isn’t really an awful idea—I didn’t mean that—”
“Goin’ to Heaven is ge’rally called, ‘Oh, that will be joyful,’ isn’t it?”
“Yes, dear—shall I write and ask Diana if she is coming?”
Shan’t nodded; then she jumped up and down in her chair and did dangerous things with her spoon, and the porridge within the spoon, and the only-aunt-in-the-world had to tell her to sit still and to put her spoon down or to finish her porridge. It is extraordinary the dulness of the alternatives grown-ups offer children, always ending up with “or else.”
“Or else what?” ask the children, always hoping, perhaps, that the grown-ups will think of something new—going to bed early, no jam for tea, are ridden to death. There is no child that doesn’t despair at the lack of enterprise shown by grown-ups in the inventing of punishments for crimes which are not strictly punishable. Why shouldn’t Shan’t, if she chose, wave her spoon in the air at the thought of Diana’s return? She didn’t make the porridge: it wasn’t her fault it was made wet and squashy—and splashable about.
“I will ask her,” said Aunt Elsie; and she meant it, too, and if she just mentioned the prospect of a dance—was it not perfectly justifiable? She had not suggested it. If Mrs. Sloane chose—to be so kind—
Aunt Elsie went to her writing-table and she wrote until she found Shan’t biting the edge of the table. Then she left off writing to show Shan’t the teeth-marks she had made. Shan’t was intensely interested, but not in the least surprised. Why, she was making them on purpose all the time! Didn’t Aunt Elsie think she was? It was then Aunt Elsie determined that Uncle Marcus should have his furniture bitten. It would do him all the good in the world. To her letter she added a post-script—“Tell Mr. Maitland he can have Shan’t for a few days if he likes. This is, I believe, the arrangement we made. She can then return a few days before you come back—” And Elsie folded the letter, feeling she was doing the right and honourable thing—while Shan’t, with her chin resting on the edge of the table, made tiger faces at her. Aunt Elsie knew Mr. Maitland gave large sums for furniture and that his furniture consisted of “pieces.” Shan’t should set her mark upon them.
At that moment the door opened and in walked Diana.