Her father colored still more, and laughed, then he went away.
Aunt Maria, to Maria's mind, was very much dressed-up that evening.
She had on a muslin dress with sprigs of purple running through it, and a purple ribbon around her waist.

She made up her mind that she would stay up until her father came home, in that new gray suit, no matter what Aunt Maria should say.
However, contrary to her usual custom, Aunt Maria did not mention, at half-past eight, that it was time for her to go to bed.

It was half-past nine, and her father had not come home, and Aunt Maria had said nothing about it.

She appeared to be working very interestedly on a sofa-cushion which she was embroidering, but her face looked, to Maria's mind, rather woe-begone, although there was a shade of wrath in the woe.

When the little clock on the sitting-room shelf struck one for half-past nine, Maria looked at her aunt, wondering.
"Why, I wonder where father has gone so late ?" she said.
Aunt Maria turned, and her voice, in reply, was both pained and pitiless.