"I wonder whether our boy's comin' home for Christmas?" Aunt Mary asked
her niece, Mary, as that happy period of family reunions drew near. Mary
had come up to stay with her aunt while Lucinda went away to bury a second
cousin. Mary was very different from Arethusa, having a voice that, when
raised, was something between an icicle and a steam whistle, and a
temperament so much on the order of her aunt's that neither could abide
the other an hour longer than was absolutely necessary. But Arethusa had a
sprained ankle, so there was no help for existing circumstances.
"No, he isn't," said Mary, who had no patience at all with her brother,
and showed it. "He's going West with the glee club."
"With the she club!" cried poor Aunt Mary, in affright.
Mary explained.
"I don't like the idea," said the old lady, shaking her head. "Somethin'
will be sure to happen. I can feel it runnin' up and down my bones this
minute."
"Oh, if he can get into trouble, of course, Jack will," said Mary
cheerfully.
Aunt Mary didn't hear her, because she didn't raise her voice
particularly. Besides, the old lady was absorbed for the nonce in the most
dismal sort of prognostications.
And they all came true, too. Something unfortunate beyond all expectations
came to pass during the glee club's visit to Chicago, and the result was
that, before the new year was well out of its incubator Jack had papers in
a breach-of-promise suit served on him. He wrote Mr.
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