"But it could not have been an earthquake," I said. "We should have
felt it."
"It is not an earthquake," explained Robina. "It is your youngest
daughter's notion of making herself useful."
Robina spoke severely. I felt for the moment as if I had done it all
myself. I had an uncle who used to talk like that. "Your aunt," he
would say, regarding me with a reproachful eye, "your aunt can be,
when she likes, the most trying woman to live with I have ever
known." It would depress me for days. I would wonder whether I
ought to speak to her about it, or whether I should be doing only
harm.
"But how did she do it?" I demanded. "It is impossible that a mere
child--where is the child?"
The parlour contained but Robina. I hurried to the door; Dick was
already half across the field. Veronica I could not see.
"We are making haste," Dick shouted back, "in case it is early-
closing day."
"I want Veronica!" I shouted.
"What?" shouted Dick.
"Veronica!" I shouted with my hands to my mouth.
"Yes!" shouted Dick. "She's on ahead."
It was useless screaming any more. He was now climbing the stile.
"They always take each other's part, those two," sighed Robina.
"Yes, and you are just as bad," I told her; "if he doesn't, you do.
And then if it's you they take your part. And you take his part.
And he takes both your parts. And between you all I am just getting
tired of bringing any of you up.
Pages:
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138