Page:Emily Climbs.pdf/240

very lonely and drear, with the intense red streak of lingering sunset beyond them. Emily shivered.

“Well,” said Cousin Jimmy, “let’s begin and get it over. Emily must want her supper.”

“When you know what I know about her, you will think she needs something besides supper,” said Mrs. Dutton tartly.

“I know all any one need know about Emily,” retorted Cousin Jimmy.

“Jimmy Murray, you are an ass,” said Aunt Ruth, angrily.

“Well, we’re cousins,” agreed Cousin Jimmy pleasantly.

“Jimmy, be silent,” said Elizabeth, majestically. “Ruth, let us hear what you have to say.”

Aunt Ruth told the whole story. She stuck to facts, but her manner of telling them made them seem even blacker than they were. She really contrived to make a very ugly story of it, and Emily shivered again as she listened. As the telling proceeded Aunt Elizabeth’s face became harder and colder, Aunt Laura began to cry, and Cousin Jimmy began to whistle.

“He was kissing her neck,” concluded Aunt Ruth. Her tone implied that, bad as it was to kiss on ordinary places for kissing, it was a thousand-fold more scandalous and disgraceful to kiss the neck.

“It was my ear, really,” murmured Emily, with a sudden impish grin she could not check in time. Under all her discomfort and dread, there was Something that was standing back and enjoying this—the drama, the comedy of it. But this outbreak of it was most unfortunate. It made her appear flippant and unashamed.

“Now, I ask you,” said Aunt Ruth, throwing out her pudgy hands, “if you can expect me to keep a girl like her any longer in my house?”

“No, I don’t think we can,” said Elizabeth slowly.

Aunt Laura began to sob wildly. Cousin Jimmy brought down the front legs of his chair with a bang.

Emily turned from the window and faced them all.