Well, say, inside of three minutes from the start I'm planted comf'table in one of the libr'y chairs, eatin' frosted cake with both hands, while Marie's off hustlin' up lemonade and fancy crackers.
Course, it was somethin' of a shock, such a quick shift as that. I ain't got a glimmer as to what Aunt Laura's end of the game was; but so long as the home-made pastry holds out I was as good as nailed to the spot. She seems to get a heap of satisfaction watchin' me eat, almost as much as though she was feedin' ground glass to her best enemy. You've seen that kind, that you can stand well enough until they begin to grin at you. Aunt Laura's bluff at smilin' was enough to make a cat get its back up, and you could tell she didn't really mean it, as well as if she'd said, "Now I'm goin' to give you an imitation of somebody that's pleased."
And all the time she was dealin' out a line of talk that was as smooth as wet asphalt. Most of it was hot air that she said Benny'd been givin' to her about me, and how sweet Mildred thought I was.
That should have been my cue; but I was too busy with the cake.
"Miss Morgan is such a dear girl, isn't she?" says Aunt Laura.
"Uh-huh," says I, pokin' in some frostin' that had lodged on the outside.
"You are quite well acquainted with her, aren't you?" says she.
"Um-m-m-m," says I.
"Let's see," goes on Aunt Laura, "what is it she did at the office!"
"Chickety-click, ding-g-g!" says I, makin' motions with my fingers.