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"Oh, see here," George said. "I don't hate you," Aunt Fanny. "That's
silly. I don't--"
"You do! You do! You want to--you want to destroy the only thing--
that I--that I ever--" And, unable to continue, she became inaudible
in her handkerchief.
George felt remorseful, and his own troubles were lightened: all at
once it became clear to him that he had been worrying about nothing.
He perceived that his Aunt Amelia was indeed an old cat, and that to
give her scandalous meanderings another thought would be the height of
folly. By no means unsusceptible to such pathos as that now exposed
before him, he did not lack pity for Fanny, whose almost spoken
confession was lamentable; and he was granted the vision to understand
that his mother also pitied Fanny infinitely more than he did. This
seemed to explain everything.
He patted the unhappy lady awkwardly upon her shoulder. "There,
there!" he said. "I didn't mean anything. Of course the only thing
to do about Aunt Amelia is to pay no attention to her. It's all
right, Aunt Fanny.


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