"Let me in, Barbara," she said.
I closed the closet door, and said: "What is it, mother?"
"Let me in."
So I let her in, and pretended I expected her to kiss me, which she
had not yet, on account of the whooping cough. But she seemed to have
forgotten that. Also the Kiss.
"Barbara," she said, in the meanest voice, "how long have you been
smoking?"
Now I must pause to explain this. Had mother aproached me in a sweet
and maternal manner, I would have been softened, and would have told the
Whole Story. But she did not. She was, as you might say, steeming with
Rage. And seeing that I was misunderstood, I hardened. I can be as hard
as adamant when necessary.
"What do you mean, mother?"
"Don't anser one question with another."
"How can I anser when I don't understand you?"
She simply twiched with fury.
"You--a mere Child!" she raved. "And I can hardly bring myself to
mention it--the idea of your owning a Flask, and bringing it into this
house--it is--it is----"
Well, I was growing cold and more hauty every moment, so I said: "I
don't see why the mere mention of a Flask upsets you so. It isn't
because you aren't used to one, especialy when traveling. And since I
was a mere baby I have been acustomed to intoxicants."
"Barbara!" she intergected, in the most dreadful tone.
"I mean, in the Familey," I said. "I have seen wine on our table ever
since I can remember. I knew to put salt on a claret stain before I
could talk."
Well, you know how it is to see an Enemy on the run, and although I
regret to refer to my dear mother as an Enemy, still at that moment she
was such and no less.
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