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My Aunt Makes up Her Mind About Me

           Whenallthesetaskswereperformedtohersatisfaction,shetookofftheglovesandapron,foldedthemup,putthemintheparticularcornerofthepressfromwhichtheyhadbeentaken,broughtoutherwork-boxtoherowntableintheopenwindow,andsatdown,withthegreenfanbetweenherandthelight,towork.

           ‘Iwishyou’dgoupstairs,’saidmyaunt,asshethreadedherneedle,‘andgivemycomplimentstoMr.Dick,andI’llbegladtoknowhowhegetsonwithhisMemorial.’

           Irosewithallalacrity,toacquitmyselfofthiscommission.

           ‘Isuppose,’saidmyaunt,eyeingmeasnarrowlyasshehadeyedtheneedleinthreadingit,‘youthinkMr.Dickashortname,eh?’

           ‘Ithoughtitwasratherashortname,yesterday,’Iconfessed.

           ‘Youarenottosupposethathehasn’tgotalongername,ifhechosetouseit,’saidmyaunt,withaloftierair.‘BableyMr.RichardBableythat’sthegentleman’struename.’

           Iwasgoingtosuggest,withamodestsenseofmyyouthandthefamiliarityIhadbeenalreadyguiltyof,thatIhadbettergivehimthefullbenefitofthatname,whenmyauntwentontosay:

           ‘Butdon’tyoucallhimbyit,whateveryoudo.Hecan’tbearhisname.That’sapeculiarityofhis.ThoughIdon’tknowthatit’smuchofapeculiarity,either;forhehasbeenill-usedenough,bysomethatbearit,tohaveamortalantipathyforit,Heavenknows.Mr.

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Roboto Lora
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