never before could hold fast to anything. Father was calmer. Father’s own daddy
was a minister, so you see he has a soft spot in his heart for the cloth. I had Jo up
to Mount Holly, after mother grew calm, and they both loved him. But mother
gave him some frightful hints in every conversation regarding what she had
hoped for me. Oh, my vacation pathway hasn’t been exactly strewn with roses,
girls dear. But—I’ve won out and I’ve got Jo. Nothing else matters.”
“To you,” said Aunt Jamesina darkly.
“Nor to Jo, either,” retorted Phil. “You keep on pitying him. Why, pray? I
think he’s to be envied. He’s getting brains, beauty, and a heart of gold in ME.”
“It’s well we know how to take your speeches,” said Aunt Jamesina patiently.
“I hope you don’t talk like that before strangers. What would they think?”
“Oh, I don’t want to know what they think. I don’t want to see myself as
others see me. I’m sure it would be horribly uncomfortable most of the time. I
don’t believe Burns was really sincere in that prayer, either.”
“Oh, I daresay we all pray for some things that we really don’t want, if we
were only honest enough to look into our hearts,” owned Aunt Jamesina
candidly. “I’ve a notion that such prayers don’t rise very far. I used to pray that I
might be enabled to forgive a certain person, but I know now I really didn’t want
to forgive her. When I finally got that I DID want to I forgave her without
having to pray about it.”
“I can’t picture you as being unforgiving for long,” said Stella.
“Oh, I used to be. But holding spite doesn’t seem worth while when you get
along in years.”
“That reminds me,” said Anne, and told the tale of John and Janet.
“And now tell us about that romantic scene you hinted so darkly at in one of
your letters,” demanded Phil.
Anne acted out Samuel’s proposal with great spirit. The girls shrieked with
laughter and Aunt Jamesina smiled.
“It isn’t in good taste to make fun of your beaux,” she said severely; “but,”
she added calmly, “I always did it myself.”
“Tell us about your beaux, Aunty,” entreated Phil. “You must have had any
number of them.”
“They’re not in the past tense,” retorted Aunt Jamesina. “I’ve got them yet.
There are three old widowers at home who have been casting sheep’s eyes at me
for some time. You children needn’t think you own all the romance in the
world.”