Only, of course, I didn't mention Mother.

Aunt Jane had told me not to--not anywhere; and to be specially careful before Father.

But what can you do when he asks you himself, right out plain?
And that's what he did.
He'd been up on his feet, tramping up and down the room all the time I'd been talking; and now, all of a sudden, he wheels around and stops short.
"How is--your mother, Mary ?" he asks.

And it was just as if he'd opened the door to another room, he had such a whole lot of questions to ask after that.

And when he'd finished he knew everything: what time we got up and went to bed, and what we did all day, and the parties and dinners and auto rides, and the folks that came such a lot to see Mother.
Then all of a sudden he stopped--asking questions, I mean.