"But what I would like to know," remarked the head of the house, "where, oh where is Aunt Mary?"
It was a messenger-boy who brought the answer—a telegram dated Niagara Falls, current date and reading:
"Stopped over here. Isn't the view from Goat Island wonderful? Leave for Chicago on the first train. Meet me."
There was a sudden painful silence.
"Does anybody know how many trains there are from Niagara Falls?" inquired Mrs. Carey, speaking to the company generally. She didn't dare to address her husband.
"Just about as many as there are from New York," replied Haines, with a woebegone look. "But—"
"Don't finish it," returned Carey, "I am not going to ask you to try again, and I am not going to do so myself. Aunt Mary can leave her money to anybody she pleases. If I had another night like this the executors would be compelled to mail me my cheque to an asylum."
And the next evening Aunt Mary, unattended, reached her nephew's house without any trouble at all. She didn't disinherit him; in fact, she felt so sorry because of his troubles that she bought Mrs. Carey a complete spring outfit regardless of cost.
It's a good thing to have an Aunt Mary, even if she is indefinite in her telegrams.