When she had danced herself out of breath she said, “Does that look like being lame? Better set me at work and let me use my feet to some more useful purpose!”
So still and stiff Aunt Betty stood that Marion could hardly restrain herself from catching hold of her and whirling her around in a waltz. 148
But fortunately she did not, for the first words her aunt said were,—
“Do you have Satan for a principal at your school, Marion Parke?”
“Satan! Why, auntie, we have Miss Ashton, and she’s the loveliest Christian lady you ever saw. We girls think she is almost an angel! Do you think it’s wicked to dance?”
“Sartain I do;” and the shake of Aunt Betty’s gray head left no doubt she was in earnest.
“Then I’ll not dance while I am here,” and Marion sat herself down demurely in the nearest chair.
Aunt Betty looked at the big clock in the corner of the kitchen. The early dark was already creeping into the room, hiding itself under table and chair, showing the light of the isinglass doors of the cooking-stove with a fitful radiance, making Marion lonely and homesick, for you could hear the clock tick, the room was so still. Then Aunt Betty lighted two yellow tallow candles that stood in iron candlesticks on the mantel-shelf, put up a leaf of the kitchen table, covered it with a clean homespun cloth, put upon it two blue delft plates and cups, a “chunk” of cold boiled pork, a bowl of cider apple-sauce, a loaf of snow-white bread, and a plate of doughnuts.
“Come to supper!” she said, and Marion went. How hungry she was, and how good everything, even the cold boiled pork, looked, she will not soon forget!
Before they seated themselves, Aunt Betty stood 149 at the back of her chair, and, leaning on its upper round with her eyes fixed on the pork, she said,—