“I guess you have your two hands full, Mis’ Hamilton, to chappyrone Eva! She never could abide chappyrones. She thought the girls didn’t need ’em.”
Eva declined to defend herself or be drawn into the conversation in any way by preserving a countenance of stony immobility that entirely ignored her presuming and unwelcome callers.
“Patty, go an’ set by your cousin an’ talk to her, won’t you, whiles I converse with Eva’s aunt?” commanded the spinster, bridling.
Patty made as if to hitch her chair closer, but an anxious glance at Eva’s face decided her to keep still. She had some knowledge of Eva’s unyielding obstinacy when seriously offended. At Stony Ledge the twins used to say, when Eva refused to talk, that “she was possessed of her dumb devil.”
So Patty sat still, and answered curtly:
“I don’t think Eva wants to talk.”
“She has a headache, poor dear,” explained Mrs. Hamilton, secretly amused at the little byplay and wondering what Eva’s cousins had done to be treated so cavalierly.
But she had confidence enough in her niece to know that she must have a reason for her conduct, although, just for pastime, she herself preserved an air of courtesy toward the guests of the moment. It was as good as a comedy, that silly old maid, she said to herself with concealed mirth.
Cousin Tabby at once recommended some homely remedies, but Patty, secretly enraged and humiliated, cut in tartly:
“Maybe she would rather call in Doctor Ludington to prescribe!”