Page:The Star in the Window.pdf/54



HEN Reba returned, three minutes later, she found Cousin Pattie in the parlor chuckling to herself, her soft flesh all a gentle tremor, like a mold of perfectly mixed gelatine. She was gazing at a big vase full of dried hydrangeas on the table in the corner.

"They were there twelve years ago," she exclaimed when Reba joined her. "I declare! Those same hydrangeas!"

"Oh, no," Reba corrected gently. "Not the same ones. I cut fresh ones every other year.

Cousin Pattie stopped chuckling, and gazed at Reba.

"How ever in the world do you stand it?" she exclaimed.

"Stand it?" queried Reba.

"Why," went on Cousin Pattie, "it would drive me crazy—the thought that I'd got to repeat a job even for every other week for a year—but every other year, for heaven knows how long, good lands! The monotony of it! How do you stand it—a young thing like you, Reba?"

Reba flushed.

"Why, I don't know," she stumbled, "I'm used to it, I guess." Then, "Wouldn't you like to see our family album?" she asked politely. "Pictures of people are so interesting, I think."

"Thanks," replied Cousin Pattie, "but I saw it last time, and, I declare, you showed it to me too, and