I thought that Miss Crocker’s eyes would pop out of her head! Bethie, I was in despair, seeing her look from the Professor to me and back to the Professor again, fabricating all manner of nonsensical notions, which I knew she’d then go tattling and telling around to all. But before she could even properly pinch up her nose to draw conclusions upon this, I saw a whisk of silk as Amy mysteriously contrived to change places with Laurie, putting herself at the old lady’s elbow and looking up at her with that pretty look in her blue eyes that no one can resist.

“Dear Miss Crocker,” she said, “please do tell me truly what you think of my dress here. It’s cut narrow in the sleeve, as you can see, in the Paris fashion, but now that I am home, I think I like the fuller American style best. What do you think?”

Now, this was magnanimity, for not only was Amy at the old lady’s mercy for the rest of the meal, but she knew quite well that “Croaker,” as we used to call her, was all the while running her sharp and spiteful eyes over every last inch of Amy’s fashionable dress and European air, storing up each detail of Amy to report back to her cronies far and wide, and, blessedly, quite forgetting my stupid little affairs while she was about it. It was perfectly noble of Amy to sacrifice herself so for me, and I told her so after Croaker had departed.

“Why, Jo!” she said innocently in reply. “It was only what you’d have done for me if the circumstances had been reversed and Laurie and I still courting.”

Bless the child! She still gets her “vocabilary” muddled at times. If the circumstances she referred to were able to be reversed, then that would mean that the Professor and I were not merely passing friendly acquaintances, but a courting couple! But I was too pleased with her to correct her, so simply kissed her and sent her on her way.

Your loving sister,

Jo.

“Yes, Mum.” Matthew rolled his eyes at Emma when she walked into the kitchen and glared in exasperation at his mobile phone as he paced in front of the sink. “Well, no, Mum, I don’t know the answer to that question, because I wouldn’t, would I? And I don’t know the answer to that, either, you know how vague Dad is.” He waved desperately to Emma with his free hand, and made a slashing motion across his throat.

“Matthew!” she shouted at him obligingly, as from a distance. “Matthew, are you ready yet?”

Matthew raised his thumb. “Hold on a second, Mum, Emma’s just calling, and … No, Mum. Not really, no. Well, I’ll try to find out, but I can’t promise anything. Yes, I do understand that, but I hope you understand, too, that … Yes, Mum. Of course, Mum.” He gaped in silent anguish, and lolled his head as he hanged himself from an imaginary noose.