The gentlemen made cross faces at somebody who wasn't there; the
ladies hung their heads and looked down at their crinolines. Aunt
Charlotte hung her head too, but her eyes, tilted up straight under
her forehead, pointed at you. And between her stiff black curls she
was smiling--smiling. When Mamma came to Aunt Charlotte's picture she
tried to turn over the page of the Album quick.

Aunt Charlotte sent things. She sent the fat valentine with the lace
paper border and black letters printed on sweet-smelling white satin
that Papa threw into the fire, and the white china doll with black
hair and blue eyes and no clothes on that Jenny hid in the nursery
cupboard.

The Skye terrier brought a message tied under his chin: "Tib. For my
dear little nephew Dan with Aunt Charlotte's fond love." He had
high-peaked, tufted ears and a blackish grey coat that trailed on the
floor like a shawl that was too big for him. When you tried to stroke
him the shawl swept and trailed away under the table. You saw nothing
but shawl and ears until Papa began to tease Tib. Papa snapped his
finger and thumb at him, and Tib showed little angry eyes and white
teeth set in a black snarl.

Mamma said, "Please don't do that again, Emilius."

And Papa did it again.


IV.

"What are you looking at, Master Daniel?" said Jenny.