Aunt Patsy’s Lover

by Miss Amanda M. Hale

For the world, I would not intimate that a single lover was all that fell to Aunt Patsy’s share. Nothing would be further from the truth, or more warmly resented by my charming relative.

Aunt Patsy is papa’s half-sister. She is one of those fair, sweet, subtle, alluring women, who are hated by their own sex, as naturally as they are adored by the other. She is a plump, round creature, who—however in times past, she may have worried the flesh off other people’s bones—by virtue of her abundance of adipose matter can never look old; she has plenty of red iron in her blood, and it sparkles rosily in her lips and cheeks; shining, blonde hair, that is always slipping from its fastenings, and curling in the prettiest fashion around her inch-high forehead; a straight mouth, that can shut firmly over its own secrets, yet can be smiling and frank enough upon occasion, and one of those short, broad, good-natured noses, that just escape ugliness. Patsy was always dressed in exquisite taste. She had a talent for dress, as many a woman has, who is a goose in everything else. Warm, bright, yet soft colors, pretty contrasts, charming correspondences, ornaments that were never redundant, and always communicated grace and style—these were what she did with—materials at most women’s command—but it was her way of using them. As for her means, her income was just about enough to keep her in gloves, her friends did the rest.

When Patsy was not visiting among these friends, she stayed at our house. Of course the family was divided according to sex; papa and Fred thought her perfect; Rose and I hated her; mamma, who is simply too sweet-tempered to hate anybody, tried hard to get along as if nothing was amiss, ad was always gently reproaching us for being so uncompromising as regarded our charming aunt.

“Poor Patsy—”

“Now mamma,” interrupted Rose, “… Read More