"It's more or less of a secret," says I; "but there's always a chance, you know, of my havin' a cozy little fam'ly chat like this. And when that don't happen—well, then I can talk with Vee."
Miss Burr's mouth puckers until it looks like a slit in a lemon.
"To be perfectly frank," says she, "I think it unutterably silly of Aunt Cornelia to allow it."
"I can see where you're goin' to be a great help," says I. "Stayin' some time, are you?"
"That depends," says Myra—and the way she snaps at me is almost assault with intent to maim. "I suppose," she goes on, "that you and Verona are quite as insufferable as young people usually are. Tell me; do you sit in corners and giggle?"
"Not as a rule," says I, "but it looks like we would."
"At me, I presume?" says Myra. "Very well; I accept the challenge."
And say, she's no prune-fed pacifist, Cousin Myra. Course, she don't swing the hammer quite so open when the folks get back, for Vee ain't one you can walk on with hobnails and get away with it. I guess Myra suspicioned that. But, when it comes to sly jabs and spicy little side remarks shot in casual, Miss Burr lives up to her last name.
"Oh, yes!" says she, when they tries to introduce us reg'lar. "We have become well acquainted—very."
"How nice!" says Vee, sort of innocent.