"I know why Aunt Betsey's feelings are hurted. They was turribly hurted. Edith an' Cynthia an' Jack all knows too."
"Janet, hush!" interposed Edith.
"Not at all; let the child speak," said her father. "What do you know, Janet?"
"Aunt Betsey came, an' she went to see Mrs. Parker, an' Mrs. Parker said she'd been there before an' Aunt Betsey said she hadn't, an' it wasn't Aunt Betsey at all, it was Cynthia dressed up like her, an' Aunt Betsey said we was all naughty 'cause we didn't want the bride to come, an' the bride was mamma, and we didn't want her, it was the trufe, an' Aunt Betsey went off mad 'cause Cynthia dressed up like her. She wouldn't stay all night, she just went off slam-bang hopping mad."
"What does the child mean?" exclaimed her father. "Will some one explain? Edith, what was the trouble?"
"I would rather not say," said Edith, her eyes fastened on her plate.
"That is no way to speak to your father. Answer me."
"Papa, I cannot. It is not my affair."
"It is your affair. I insist."
"Wait, John," interposed Mrs. Franklin.