“Hmph,” was Ira’s only comment.
Indeed he had no opportunity for comment for Aunt Mira was presently upon him and her incisive commentary on Ira’s qualities probably saved Westy the discomfort of further questioning. He was such a thoroughly good boy that now when he confessed to doing wrong, Aunt Mira felt impelled to lay the blame to some one else. And Ira was the victim....
CHAPTER XVI
AUNT MIRA AND IRA
“Now you see, Iry Hasbrook, where your boastin’ and braggin’ and lyin’ yarns has led to,” said Aunt Mira, after Westy had gone. It had proved impossible to detain him, and he had marched off after his sensational disclosure with a feeling of infinite relief that no complications had occurred. But he might have seen danger of complications in Ira’s shrewd, amused look if he had only taken the trouble to notice it.
“He’s a great kid,” said Ira.
“A pretty mess you’ve got him in,” said Aunt Mira, “with your droppin’ this and droppin’ that. Now he’s dropped his deer and I hope you’re satisfied. ’Twouldn’t be no wonder if he ran away to sea and you to blame, Ira Hasbrook. It’s because he’s so good and trustin’ and makes heroes out of every one, even fools like you with your kidnappin’ kings and rum smugglin’ and what all.”
“How ’bout the book in the settin’ room?” Ira asked.
Aunt Mira made no answer to this but she at least paid Ira the compliment of rising from her chair with such vigor of determination that the dishpan full of beans which had been reposing in her lap was precipitated upon the floor. She strode into the sitting room where the “sumptuous, gorgeously illustrated volume” lay upon the innocent worsted tidy which decorously covered the marble of the center table.
Laying hands upon it with such heroic determination as never one of its flaunted hunters showed, she conveyed it to the kitchen and forthwith cremated it in the huge cooking stove. Then she returned to the back porch with an air that suggested that what she had just done to the book was intended as an illustration of what she would like to do to Ira himself. But Ira was not sufficiently sensitive to take note of this ghastly implication.
“Yer recipe for makin’ currant wine was in that book,” was all he said.