So I let her in, and pretended I expected her to kiss me, which she had not yet, on account of the whooping cough. But she seemed to have forgotten that. Also the Kiss.
“Barbara,” she said, in the meanest voice, “how long have you been smoking?”
Now I must pause to explain this. Had mother aproached me in a sweet and maternal manner, I would have been softened, and would have told the Whole Story. But she did not. She was, as you might say, steeming with Rage. And seeing that I was misunderstood, I hardened. I can be as hard as adamant when necessary.
“What do you mean, mother?”
“Don’t anser one question with another.”
“How can I anser when I don’t understand you?”
She simply twiched with fury.
“You—a mere Child!” she raved. “And I can hardly bring myself to mention it—the idea of your owning a Flask, and bringing it into this house—it is—it is——”
Well, I was growing cold and more hauty every moment, so I said: “I don’t see why the mere mention of a Flask upsets you so. It isn’t because you aren’t used to one, especialy when traveling. And since I was a mere baby I have been acustomed to intoxicants.”
“Barbara!” she intergected, in the most dreadful tone.