[Illustration: 9041]
UNT LOIS,” said I, “what was that story about Ruth Sullivan?”
Aunt Lois's quick black eyes gave a surprised flash; and she and my
grandmother looked at each other a minute significantly.
“Who told you any thing about Ruth Sullivan,” she said sharply.
“Nobody. Somebody said _you_ knew something about her,” said I.
I was holding a skein of yarn for Aunt Lois; and she went on winding in
silence, putting the ball through loops and tangled places.
“Little boys shouldn't ask questions,” she concluded at last
sententiously. “Little boys that ask too many questions get sent to
bed.”