It was very dull for the rest of us. The Story Girl sat rather
sulkily in her corner; she was angry because Felicity would not
let her make the rusks, and also, perhaps, a little vexed because
she could not charm Great-aunt Eliza with her golden voice and
story-telling gift. Felix and I looked at each other and wished
ourselves out in the hill field, careering gloriously adown its
gleaming crust.
But presently a little amusement came our way. Dan, who was
sitting behind Great-aunt Eliza, and consequently out of her view,
began making comments on Cecily's explanation of this one and that
one among the photographs. In vain Cecily implored him to stop.
It was too good fun to give up. For the next half-hour the
dialogue ran after this fashion, while Peter and Felix and I, and
even the Story Girl, suffered agonies trying to smother our bursts
of laughter--for Great-aunt Eliza could see if she couldn't hear:
CECILY, SHOUTING:--"That is Mr. Joseph Elliott of Markdale, a
second cousin of mother's."
DAN:--"Don't brag of it, Sis. He's the man who was asked if
somebody else said something in sincerity and old Joe said 'No, he
said it in my cellar.'"
CECILY:--"This isn't anybody in our family. It's little Xavy
Gautier who used to be hired with Uncle Roger.
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