Lawrence
just stuck it out that he hated Cousin Parnelia and he wouldn't give a
bit. But he was so little that he only had thirty cents or something
like that in a tin bank, so it didn't matter. When we put it all
together it wasn't nearly enough of course, and we took the rest out
of our own little family savings-bank rainy-day savings and bought the
tiny house and lot. Father wanted to 'surprise' Cousin Parnelia with
the deed. He wanted to lay it under some flowers in a basket, or slip
it into her pocket, or send it to her with some eggs or something. But
Mother--it was so like her!--the first time Cousin Parnelia happened
to come to the house, Mother picked up the deed from her desk and said
offhand, 'Oh, Parnelia, we bought the little Garens house for you,'
and handed her the paper, and went to talking about cutworms or
Bordeaux mixture."
Page smiled, appreciative of the picture. "I see her. I see your
mother--Vermont to the core."
"Well, it was only about two weeks after that, I was practising and
Mother was rubbing down a table she was fixing over. Nobody else
happened to be at home. Cousin Parnelia came in, her old battered
black straw hat on one ear as usual. She was all stirred up and
pleased about a new 'method' of using planchette. You know what
planchette is, don't you? The little heart-shaped piece of wood
spiritualists use, with a pencil fast to it, to take down their silly
'messages,' Some spiritualistic fake was visiting town conducting
seances and he claimed he'd discovered some sort of method for
inducing greater receptivity--or something like that.
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