"I am going to Paradise—I'm certain of it. The glimpses I've had of the ocean from the train have convinced me of that. Do you live where you can see it, Aunt Marcia? Will it be nearby?"
"I shall not tell you one thing," Marcia replied. "At least only one, and that is that I flatly refuse to be Aunt Marcia to you!"
"Don't you like me?" pouted Sylvia, arching her brows.
"So much that your aunt-ing me is absurd. It would make me feel like Methuselah. I really haven't that amount of dignity."
"Ah, now my last weak, wavering doubt is vanquished. Not only am I glad I came but I wish I'd come before."
She saw a shadow flit across her aunt's face.
"You weren't asked until now," observed Marcia with cryptic brevity.
"That wouldn't have mattered. Had I known what you were like, I should have come without an invitation."
In spite of herself, Marcia smiled.