“Not if I can help it,” I said, looking straight ahead. Hannah had dropped a stocking—not her own. One of the Xmas favors—and was fumbling about for it.
“You are tired and unerved to-night, Bab. When I have seen your father tomorrow, and talked to him——”
“Don’t you dare to see my father.”
“—— and when he has agreed to what I propose,” he went on, without paying any atention to what I had said, “you will be calmer. We can plan things.”
Hannah came puffing up then, and he helped us into the motor. He was very careful to see that we were covered with the robes, and he tucked Hannah’s feet in. She was awfully flattered. Old Fool! And she babbled about him until I wanted to slap her.
“He’s a nice young man. Miss Bab,” she said. “That is, if he’s the One. And he has nice manners. So considerate. Many a party I’ve taken your sister to, and never before——”
“I wish you’d shut up, Hannah,” I said. “He’s a Pig, and I hate him.”
She sulked after that, and helped me out of my things at home without a word. When I was in bed, however, and she was hanging up my clothes, she said:
“I don’t know what’s got into you, Miss Barbara. You are that cross that there’s no living with you.”
“Oh, go away,” I said.