Читать книгу Cathalina at Greycliff онлайн

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“Home again, my dear boy!” was Aunt Katherine’s brisk greeting. Philip welcomed her warmly and started to unfasten the wrap which she had worn in the machine.

“You are an improvement on the maid, Philip, and much better looking. No, I’ll not go upstairs, thank you,” and turning, Aunt Katherine stood a moment before a mirror in the hall, put back a wisp or two of silvery hair, patted her white laces and shook out the folds of her clinging black silk draperies. A maid who had just appeared in answer to Philip’s summons, waited a moment in the background, then vanished as Mrs. Knickerbocker entered the room and greeted her advancing host and hostess.

Tall and erect was Aunt Katherine, with well cut features, mouth a little wide, perhaps, nose a trifle long, but well shaped. Nothing could look more uncompromising than that straight, Van Buskirk back; nothing could be more cutting on occasion than a few of her quiet, well directed remarks. But no one in the connection was more respected and generally beloved for her wisdom, good, common sense and real, unselfish kindness.