“Oh, you rogue!”, cried Auntie Ailie.
“You wretch!” cried Auntie Bell. “I might have known your cantrips. Where in the world did you get these clothes?”
Bud sailed across the room like a cutter yacht and put her arms about her aunt's neck. “Didn't you know me?” she asked.
“How could I know you, dressed up like that? And your teeth—you imp! they're blackened; and your neck—you jad! it's painted; and—oh, lassie, lassie! Awa', awa'! the deil's ower grit wi' ye!”
“Didn't you know me, Aunt Ailie?” asked Bud.
“Not in the least,” said Ailie, taking the droll old figure in her arms. “Perhaps I might have known you if I didn't think it was to-morrow you were coming.”
“It was to have been to-morrow; but the measles have broken out in school, and I came a day earlier, and calculated I'd just hop in and surprise you all. Didn't you guess, Uncle Dan?”
“Not at first,” said he. “I'll admit I was fairly deceived, but when you talked about being in the Band of Hope I saw at a shot through The Macintosh. I hope you liked my Latin, Bud.”