"An' I'm firmer with him, too," went on Celestina. "You'd have him clean spoiled. I ain't sure but you've spoilt him already past all help durin' these last ten days. Did you hear him at breakfast askin' me to open his egg? He knows perfectly well I never take off the shell. All I ever do for him is to put in the butter, pepper, an' salt; an' I only do that 'cause he's squizzlin' so to get out in that shop that he ain't a notion whether there's fixin's on his egg or not. Let him get one of these ideas on his mind an' it's a wonder he don't eat the egg, shells an' all."
"Poor dear!" The girl's face softened.
"You pet him too much," said Celestina accusingly.
"Don't you pet Willie a little yourself, Aunt Tiny?" teased Delight. "You know you do. Everybody does. We can't help it. People just love him and like to see him happy."
"I know it," the woman admitted. "Why, there's folks in Wilton (I could name 'em right now) who would run their legs off for Willie. Look at Bob an' this Mr. Snellin' sweatin' in that shop like beavers over somethin' that ain't never goin' to do 'em an ounce of good—mebbe ain't never goin' to do anybody no good. There's somethin' in him that sorter compels people to stand on their heads for him like that. I often try to figger out just what it is," she mused. Then in a brisker tone she asked: "How's the hat comin'?"
"Beautifully."
"That's good. Hurry it right along, for I'm plannin' to have dinner at twelve an' get it out of the way."
"But the car isn't coming for us until three o'clock."
"'Twill take that time to wash up the dishes an' rig Willie up."
"Not three hours!"