“Oh, dear me, Uncle Joe” exclaimed Carolyn May. “If he did that, he’d die of indignation.”
“Huh? Oh! I guess ’twould cause indigestion,” agreed her uncle.
Aunty Rose did not even smile. She sat so very stiff and upright in her chair that her back never touched the back of the chair; she was very precise and exact in all her movements.
“Bless me!” Mr. Stagg exclaimed suddenly. “What’s that on the mantel, Aunty Rose? That yaller letter?”
“A telegram for you, Joseph Stagg,” replied the old lady as composedly as though the receipt of a telegram was an hourly occurrence at The Corners.
“Well!” muttered the hardware dealer, and Carolyn May wondered if he were not afraid to express just the emotion he felt at that instant. His face was red, and he got up clumsily to secure the sealed message.
“Who brought it, and when?” he asked finally, having read the lawyer’s night letter.
“A boy. This morning,” said Aunty Rose, utterly calm.
“And I never saw it this noon,” grumbled the hardware dealer.
Mrs. Kennedy quite ignored any suggestion of impatience in Mr. Stagg’s voice or manner. But he seemed to lose taste for his supper after reading the telegram.