FullReads

“He can’t,” she said. “Our son Carol is dumb.”

The Rich Man looked very queer.

“Oh, I say,” he fumbled and stuttered. “Oh, I say–! After all there’s no such great harm in a giggle. My little girl Posie cries all the time. All the time, I mean! Cries and cries and cries!–It’s a fright!”

“She wouldn’t,” said our Aunt Esta, “if she had a game like this to play with.”

“Eh?” said the Rich Man.

“She could wear the Witch’s hideous cape!” said our Aunt Esta. “And the queer pointed black hat! And the scraggly gray wig! And the great horn-rimmed spectacles! And the hump on her back! And—-“

“My daughter Posie has Ti–Titian red curls,” said the Rich Man coldly. “And the most beautiful brown eyes that mortal man has ever seen! And a skin so fair that—-“

“That’s why I think it would rest her so,” said our Aunt Esta, “to be ugly outside–instead of inside for a while.”

“Eh?” said the Rich Man.

He glared at our Aunt Esta.

Our Aunt Esta glared at him.

Out in the kitchen suddenly the most beautiful smell happened. The smell was soup! Spiced Tomato Soup! It was as though the whole stove had bloomed! My Father came to the door. “What’s it all about?” he said. He saw the Rich Man. The Rich Man saw him. “Why, how do you do?” said my Father. “Why, how do you do?” said the Rich Man. They bowed. There was no room on the Dining Room table to put the dishes. There was no room anywhere for anything. We had to eat in the kitchen. My Mother made griddle cakes. The Rich Man stirred the batter. He seemed to think it was funny. Carol had to sit on a soap-box. Our Aunt Esta sat on the edge of a barrel with her stockings swinging. It made her look not so strict. “All the same,” worried the Rich Man, “I don’t see just why you fixed the price at two hundred dollars and forty-three cents?–Why not two hundred dollars and forty-five cents? Or even the round sum two hundred and one dollars?”

Our Aunt Esta looked pretty mad. “I will be very glad–I’m sure,” she said, “to submit an itemized bill.”

“Oh, nonsense!” said the Rich Man. “It was just your mental processes I was wondering about.–The thing, of course, is worth any money–if it works!”

“If it works?” cried our Aunt Esta.

The Rich Man jumped up and strode fiercely to the Dining Room door.

Our Aunt Esta strode fiercely after him, only littler. Our Aunt Esta is very little.

The Rich Man waved his arms at everything,–the boxes,–the bundles,–the angel-wings,–the cloaks,–the suits,–the Chinese Lanterns.

“All the same, the thing is perfectly outrageous!–The size of it!–The extent! No house would hold it!”

“It isn’t meant,” said our Aunt Esta, “to be played just in the house.–It’s meant to be played on a sunny porch opening out on a green lawn–so that there’s plenty of room for all Posie’s little playmates to go swarming in and out.”

The Rich Man looked queer. He gave a little shiver.

“My little daughter Posie hasn’t got any playmates,” he said. “She’s too cross.”

Our Aunt Esta stood up very straight. Two red spots flamed in her cheeks.

“You won’t be able to keep the children away from her,” she said, “after they once begin to play this game!”

“You really think so?” cried the Rich Man.

Out in the kitchen my Father looked at my Mother. My Mother looked at my Father. They both looked at us. My Father made a little chuckle.

“It would seem,” said my Father, “as though it was the honor of the whole family that was involved!” He made a whisper in Carol’s ear. “Go to it, Son!” he whispered.

Rosalee jumped to her feet. Carol jumped to his feet. I jumped to my feet. We snatched hands. We ran right into the Dining Room. Carol’s face was shining.

“Who’s going to be Posie-with-the-Sick-Bones?” I cried.

“S–s–h!” said everybody except our Aunt Esta.