La Beale Aunt Isabel wasn't in love with Mr. Saunders after
all! She was in love with Uncle Charlie. There had been no romantic
undermeaning in all that harp-ukelele business, in the flasket of
ice-cream soda, in the mysterious sickness. The sickness wasn't even
mysterious any longer. Aunt Isabel had only had an "upset."
Deeply stirred, Missy withdrew her hand.
"I think I forgot to open my bed to air," she said, and hurried away
to her own room. But, oblivious of the bed, she stood for a long
time at the window, staring out at nothing.
Yes; Romance had died out in the Middle Ages. . .
She was still standing there when the maid called her to the
telephone. It was Raleigh Peters on the wire, asking to take her to
the dance that night. She accepted, but without enthusiasm. Where
were the thrills she had expected to experience while receiving the
homage paid a visiting girl? He was just a grocery clerk named
Peters!
Yes; Romance had died out in the Middle Ages. . .
She felt very blase as she hung up the receiver.
CHAPTER V
IN THE MANNER OF THE DUCHESS
It was raining--a gentle, trickling summer rain, when, under a heap
of magazines near a heavenly attic window, Missy and Tess came upon
the paper-backed masterpieces of "The Duchess.
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