And, indeed, what we
saw would have been worth several conscience spasms if we
had felt any.
Aunt Olivia arose and advanced primly, with outstretched hand.
"Mr. MacPherson, I am very glad to see you," she said formally.
"It's yourself, Nillie!" Mr. Malcolm MacPherson gave two strides.
He dropped his flowers on the floor, knocked over a small table,
and sent the ottoman spinning against the wall. Then he caught
Aunt Olivia in his arms and--smack, smack, smack! Peggy sank back
upon the stair-step with her handkerchief stuffed in her mouth.
Aunt Olivia was being kissed!
Presently, Mr. Malcolm MacPherson held her back at arm's length in his
big paws and looked her over. I saw Aunt Olivia's eyes roam over his
arm to the inverted table and the litter of asters and goldenrod.
Her sleek crimps were all ruffled up, and her lace fichu twisted half
around her neck. She looked distressed.
"It's not a bit changed you are, Nillie," said Mr. Malcolm
MacPherson admiringly. "And it's good I'm feeling to see you again.
Are you glad to see me, Nillie?"
"Oh, of course," said Aunt Olivia.
She twisted herself free and went to set up the table.
Then she turned to the flowers, but Mr. Malcolm MacPherson had
already gathered them up, leaving a goodly sprinkling of leaves
and stalks on the carpet.
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