“Oh, yes, you could. I most certainly should not object.”
“Then that makes it hopeless.”
Von Rosen looked at her in perplexity. “I am afraid I don't understand you, dear little soul.”
“No, you do not. You see, grandmother is in reality very good, almost too good to live, and thinking she is being a little wicked playing pinocle on Sunday when Aunt Harriet and Aunt Susan don't know it, sort of keeps her going. I don't just know why myself, but I am sure of it. Now the minute she was sure that you, who are the minister, did not object, she would not care a bit about pinocle and it would hurt her.”
Annie looked inconceivably young. She knitted her candid brows and stared at him with round eyes of perplexity. Karl von Rosen shouted with laughter.
“Oh, well, if that is all,” he said, “I object strenuously to your playing pinocle with your grandmother on Sunday. The only way you can manage will be to play hookey from church.”
“I need not do that always,” said Annie. “My aunts take naps Sunday afternoons, but I am sure grandmother could keep awake if she thought she could be wicked.”
“Well, you can either play hookey from church, or run away Sunday afternoons, or if you prefer and she is able, I will drive your grandmother over here and you can play pinocle in my study.”
“Then I do think she will live to be a hundred,” said Annie with a peal of laughter.
“Stop laughing and kiss me,” said Von Rosen.