She is so different
in her ways from your mother and mine that at first I hardly knew what
to make of her. She has a queer way of snapping people up short if she
isn't just suited. For a long time I was afraid Aunt Lucinda would never
like me, she seemed to have such a horror of boys--may be that's the
reason she never got married. I have begun to think lately that I am
gaining in her good opinion and I am very glad of it. After all she is
kind-hearted, for all her queer ways; I could get along better if she
wasn't so distressingly neat and particular about the house. I tell you
if you lived with my Aunt, you'd have to remember always to wipe your
feet on the door-mat before coming into the house; if you did happen to
forget Aunt Lucinda would sharpen up your memory, depend upon it. When
I first came here I really believe she thought I should burn either the
house or barn, perhaps both, or commit some other enormity; but as no
such occurrence has as yet taken place, she begins to think, I believe,
that I am not so bad as I might be.
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