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Mary Marie by Eleanor H. (Eleanor Hodgman) Porter
page 47 of 253 (18%)

And she got up and swept out of the room.

Now wasn't that funny? But I just loved it, all the same. I always
love Mother when she's superb and haughty and disdainful.

Well, after she had gone Aunt Hattie looked at Grandpa and Grandpa
looked at Aunt Hattie. Grandpa shrugged his shoulders, and gave his
hands a funny little flourish; and Aunt Hattie lifted her eyebrows and
said:

"Well, what do you know about that?" (Aunt Hattie forgot I was in the
room, I know, or she'd never in the world have used slang like that!)
"And after all the things she's said about how unhappy she was!"
finished Aunt Hattie.

Grandpa didn't say anything, but just gave his funny little shrug
again.

And it was kind of queer, when you come to think of it--about Mother,
I mean, wasn't it?

* * * * *

_One month later_.

Well, I've been here another whole month, and it's growing nicer all
the time. I just love it here. I love the sunshine everywhere, and the
curtains up to let it in. And the flowers in the rooms, and the little
fern-dish on the dining-room table, the books and magazines just lying
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