Page:Emily Climbs.pdf/153

 tification. “It’s horrible to live in the same house with any one you hate”

“Poisonous,” agreed Cousin Jimmy.

“And it my fault. I tried to like her—tried to please her—she’s always twitting me—she attributes mean motives to everything I do or say—or  do or say. I’ve never heard the last of sitting in the corner of the pew—and failing to get a star pin. She’s always insults to my father and mother. And she’s always me for things I haven’t done—or that don’t need forgiveness.”

“Aggravating—very,” conceded Cousin Jimmy.

“Aggravating—you're right. I know if I go back she’ll say ‘I’ll forgive you this time, but don’t let it happen again.’ And she will —oh, Auth Ruth’s sniff is the hatefulest sound in the world!”

“Ever hear a dull knife sawing through thick cardboard?” murmured Cousin Jimmy.

Emily ignored him and swept on.

“I can’t be in the wrong—but Aunt Ruth thinks I am—and says she has ‘to make allowances’ for me. She doses me with cod-liver oil—she never lets me go out in the evening if she can help it—‘consumptives should never be out after eight o’clock.’ If is cold,  must put on an extra petticoat. She is always asking disagreeable questions and refusing to believe my answers. She believes and always will believe that I kept this play a secret from her because of slyness. I never thought of such a thing. Why, the Shrewsbury referred to it last week. Aunt Ruth doesn’t often miss anything in the. She twitted me for days because she found a composition of mine that I had signed ‘Emilie.’ ‘Better try to spell your name after some unheard-of twist,’ she sneered!”

“Well, wasn’t it a bit silly, pussy?”

“Oh, I suppose my grandmothers wouldn’t have done it! But Aunt Ruth needn’t have kept it up as she did. That is what is so dreadful—if she’d speak her mind