Or, at any rate, that was my feeling; every note she uttered was
melodiously kind, but every sentence was an arrow sent home.
"You make me," she said, "you make me sink of se aunt of my musser, vhat
she said to my musser vhen my musser iss getting married. 'Senda,' she
said, 'vonce in a vhile'--is sat right, 'vonce in a vhile?'--so?--'vonce
in a vhile your Rudolph going to see a voman he better had married san
you. Sen he going to fall a little vay--maybe a good vay--in love viss
her; and sen if Rudolph iss a scoundtrel, or if you iss a fool, sare be
trouble. But if Rudolph don't be a scoundtrel and you don't be a fool he
vill pretty soon straight' up himself and say, One man can't ever'sing
have, and mine Senda she is enough!'... Sat vas my Aunt Senda."
"Your mother was named for her?"
"Yes, my musser, and me; I am name' Senda, se same. She vas se Countess
von (Something)--sat aunt of my musser. She vas a fine voman."
"Still," said our joker, "you know she was only about half right in that
advice."
"No," she replied, putting on a drowsy tone, "I don't know; and I sink you
don't know eeser."
"I reckon I do," he insisted. "We're all made of inflammable stuff. Any
_man_ knows that.
Pages:
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92