"Sh-h-h-h!" says I. "Maybe she'll feed you frosted cake. It's one of her tricks."
She didn't, though. She looked about as smilin' as a dill pickle when she showed up, and she opened the ball by askin' what I meant, bringin' strangers there.
"Well," says I, "you've been askin' a lot about him lately; so I thought I'd lug him around. This is Brother Bill."
"What!" says she, squealin' it out like I'd said the house was afire. "Not the brother of that—that Morgan girl?"
"Ask him," says I. "You're a star at that."
Then I takes a peek at Bill. And say, I was almost sorry I'd done it. For a party that'd just broke jail, he could stand the least I ever saw. He looks as mixed up and helpless as a lady that's took a seat in the smokin' car by mistake. I'd have helped him out then if I could have thought how. It was too late, though, and Aunt Laura was no quitter.
"How long is it," says she, jerkin' her head back and throwin' a look out of her narrow eyes that must have gone clear through him, "since you got out of the State penitentiary?"
"Why—why—er—er——" begins Brother Bill.
Then he has the biggest stroke of luck that ever came his way; for Marie pushes in with the silver plate and a card on it.
"Thank goodness!" says Aunt Laura, lookin' at the card. "The very person I need! Ask Dr. Wackhorn to step in here."