We said nothing , knowing that Aunt Olivia 's secrets always came our way in time . When the rose-leaves were picked , we carried them in and upstairs in single file , Aunt Olivia bringing up the rear to pick up any stray rose-leaf we might drop . In the south-west room , where there was no carpet to fade , we spread them on newspapers on the floor . Then we put our sweet-grass baskets back in the proper place in the proper closet in the proper room . What would have happened to us , or to the sweet-grass baskets , if this had not been done I do not know . Nothing was ever permitted to remain an instant out of place in Aunt Olivia 's house . When we went downstairs , Aunt Olivia asked us to go into the parlour . She had something to tell us , she said , and as she opened the door a delicate pink flush spread over her face . I noted it , with surprise , but no inkling of the truth came to me -- for nobody ever connected the idea of possible lovers or marriage with this prim little old maid , Olivia Sterling . Aunt Olivia 's parlour was much like herself -- painfully neat . Every article of furniture stood in exactly the same place it had always stood . Nothing was ever suffered to be disturbed . The tassels of the crazy cushion lay just so over the arm of the sofa , and the crochet antimacassar was always spread at precisely the same angel over the horsehair rocking chair . No speck of dust was ever visible ; no fly ever invaded that sacred apartment . Aunt Olivia pulled up a blind , to let in what light could sift finely through the vine leaves , and sat down in a high-backed old chair that had appertained to her great-grandmother . She folded her hands in her lap , and looked at us with shy appeal in her blue-gray eyes . Plainly she found it hard to tell us her secret , yet all the time there was an air of pride and exultation about her ; somewhat , also , of a new dignity . Aunt Olivia could never be self-assertive , but if it had been possible that would have been her time for it . `` Have you ever heard me speak of Mr. Malcolm MacPherson ? '' asked Aunt Olivia .
We had never heard her , or anybody else , speak XXXXX Mr. Malcolm MacPherson ; but volumes of explanation could not have told us more about him than did Aunt Olivia 's voice when she pronounced his name .
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