Chapter XIX
An Interlude
“To think that this is my twentieth birthday, and that I’ve left my teens behind
me forever,” said Anne, who was curled up on the hearth-rug with Rusty in her
lap, to Aunt Jamesina who was reading in her pet chair. They were alone in the
living room. Stella and Priscilla had gone to a committee meeting and Phil was
upstairs adorning herself for a party.
“I suppose you feel kind of, sorry” said Aunt Jamesina. “The teens are such a
nice part of life. I’m glad I’ve never gone out of them myself.”
Anne laughed.
“You never will, Aunty. You’ll be eighteen when you should be a hundred.
Yes, I’m sorry, and a little dissatisfied as well. Miss Stacy told me long ago that
by the time I was twenty my character would be formed, for good or evil. I don’t
feel that it’s what it should be. It’s full of flaws.”
“So’s everybody’s,” said Aunt Jamesina cheerfully. “Mine’s cracked in a
hundred places. Your Miss Stacy likely meant that when you are twenty your
character would have got its permanent bent in one direction or ‘tother, and
would go on developing in that line. Don’t worry over it, Anne. Do your duty by
God and your neighbor and yourself, and have a good time. That’s my
philosophy and it’s always worked pretty well. Where’s Phil off to tonight?”
“She’s going to a dance, and she’s got the sweetest dress for it—creamy
yellow silk and cobwebby lace. It just suits those brown tints of hers.”
“There’s magic in the words ‘silk’ and ‘lace,’ isn’t there?” said Aunt
Jamesina. “The very sound of them makes me feel like skipping off to a dance.
And YELLOW silk. It makes one think of a dress of sunshine. I always wanted a
yellow silk dress, but first my mother and then my husband wouldn’t hear of it.
The very first thing I’m going to do when I get to heaven is to get a yellow silk
dress.”
Amid Anne’s peal of laughter Phil came downstairs, trailing clouds of glory,
and surveyed herself in the long oval mirror on the wall.
“A flattering looking glass is a promoter of amiability,” she said. “The one in