For a time my aunt was deep in thought. Then she replied:
"Trot, my child, if I have any object in life, it is to provide for your
being a good, sensible, and happy man. I am bent upon it. It's in vain,
Trot, to recall the past, unless it has some influence upon the present.
Perhaps I might have been better friends with your father and mother. When
you came to me, a little runaway boy, perhaps I thought so. From that time
until now, Trot, you have ever been a credit to me, and a pride and
pleasure. I have no other claim upon my means,--and you are my adopted
child. Only be a loving child to me in my old age, and bear with my whims
and fancies, and you will do more for an old woman whose prime of life was
not so happy as it might have been, than ever that old woman did for you."
It was the first time I had heard my aunt refer to her past history. Her
quiet way of doing it would have exalted her in my respect and affection,
if anything could.
"All is agreed and understood between us now, Trot," she said, "and we
need talk of this no more. Give me a kiss, and we'll go to the Commons in
the morning."
And accordingly at noon the next day we made our way to Doctors' Commons,
interviewed Mr.
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