Page:Emily Climbs.pdf/245

“Yes. Dr. Hardy thinks he is a very brilliant debater and says he has a future,” said Emily.

“Well,” snapped Aunt Ruth, “I wish you would stop prowling about my house at all hours, writing novels. If you had been in your bed, as you should have been, this would never have happened.”

“I wasn’t writing novels,” cried Emily. “I’ve never written a word of fiction since I promised Aunt Elizabeth. I wasn’t writing anything. I told you I just went down to get my Jimmy-book.”

“Why couldn’t you have left that where it was till morning?” persisted Aunt Ruth.

“Come, come,” said Cousin Jimmy, “don’t start up another argument. I want my supper. You girls go and get it.”

Elizabeth and Laura left the room as meekly as if old Archibald Murray himself had commanded it. After a moment Ruth followed them. Things had not turned out just as she anticipated; but, after all, she was resigned. It would not have been a nice thing for a scandal like this concerning a Murray to be blown abroad, as must have happened if a verdict of guilty had been found against Emily.

“So that’s settled,” said Cousin Jimmy to Emily as the door closed.

Emily drew a long breath. The quiet, dignified old room suddenly seemed very beautiful and friendly to her.

“Yes, thanks to you,” she said, springing across it to give him an impetuous hug. “Now, scold me, Cousin Jimmy, scold me hard.”

“No, no. But it would have been more prudent not to have opened that window, wouldn’t it now, Pussy?”

“Of course it would. But prudence is such a shoddy virtue at times, Cousin Jimmy. One is ashamed of it—one likes to just go ahead and—and———”

“And hang consequences,” supplied Cousin Jimmy.

“Something like that,” Emily laughed. “I hate to go mincing through life, afraid to take a single long step