"Don't you like me?" pouted Sylvia, arching her brows. "So much that your aunt-ing me is absurd. It would make me feel like Methuselah. I really haven't that amount of dignity." "Ah, now my last weak, wavering doubt is vanquished. Not only am I glad I came but I wish I'd come before." She saw a shadow flit across her aunt's face. "You weren't asked until now," observed Marcia with cryptic brevity. [38] [38] "That wouldn't have mattered. Had I known what you were like, I should have come without an invitation." In spite of herself, Marcia smiled. "Here's the car," she answered. "What about your trunk?" "I didn't bring one." "You didn't bring a trunk! But you are to make a long visit, child." "I—I wasn't sure that I'd want to," Sylvia replied. "You see, I was a wee bit afraid of you. I thought you'd be a New England prune. I had no idea what you were like. If I'd brought my things, I'd have been obliged to stay." "You're a cautious young person," was Marcia's dry observation. "'Twould serve you right if I sent you home at the end of a fortnight." "Oh, please don't do that," begged Sylvia. "It's in The Alton City Courier that I have gone East to visit relatives for a few weeks. If I should come right back, everybody would decide I'd stolen the family silver or done something disgraceful. Besides—my trunk is all packed, locked, strapped and I've brought the key," added she with disarming frankness. "It can be sent for in case—" "I see!" nodded Marcia, her lips curving into a smile in spite of herself, "I said you were cautious." [39] [39] "Don't you ever watch your own step?"
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