"But," Matilda objected; "me and Rosemary——."
"You and Rosemary! Humph! You can set in the dark or anywhere else you please." With that she slammed the door and was gone. Rosemary came in, after a little, humming to herself with an assumed cheerfulness she was far from feeling. Then she went out into the kitchen and came back with a match. The feeble flicker of it revealed only Aunt Matilda—and no lamp.
"Where's Grandmother?" asked Rosemary, in astonishment. "And what has become of the lamp?"
"She's gone up to her room and she's took the lamp with her," Matilda laughed, hysterically.
Aunt Matilda's Troubles
Rosemary brought in the candle from the kitchen. As it happened, it was the last candle and was nearly gone, but it would burn for an hour or two.
"I'm sorry, Aunt Matilda," said Rosemary, kindly, "if you want to read, or anything——."
"I don't," she interrupted. "I'd like to sit and talk a spell. I don't know as we need the candle. If she should happen to come back, she'd be mad. She said she'd put away the lamps, and I reckon she'd have took the candle, too, if she'd thought."
"Very well," answered Rosemary, blowing out the candle. "I'm not afraid of the dark." Moreover, it was not the general policy of the household to ruffle Grandmother's temper unnecessarily.
"Rosemary," said Aunt Matilda, a little later; "Ma's a hard woman—she always has been."