"From Mrs. Anderson to you?" he asked. And when Aunt Jane nodded her
head he sat still farther back in his chair and said, with a little
wave of his hand, "I never care to read--other people's letters."
Aunt Jane said, "Stuff and nonsense, Charles, don't be silly!" But she
pulled back the letter and read it--after giving a kind of an uneasy
glance in my direction.
Father never looked up once while she was reading it. He kept his eyes
on his plate and the baked beans he was eating. I watched him. You
see, I knew, by Aunt Jane's reading the letter to him, that it was
something he had got to decide; and when I found out what it was, of
course, I was just crazy. I wanted to go so. So I watched Father's
face to see if he was going to let me go. But I couldn't make out. I
couldn't make out at all. It changed--oh, yes, it changed a great deal
as she read; but I couldn't make out what kind of a change it was at
all.
Aunt Jane finished the letter and began to fold it up. I could see she
was waiting for Father to speak; but he never said a word. He kept
right on--eating beans.
Then Aunt Jane cleared her throat and spoke.
"You will not let her go, of course, Charles; but naturally I had to
read the letter to you. I will write to Mrs.
Pages:
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148