There are wonderful things out there to see and learn , fine , noble people to meet , beautiful deeds to admire ; but , '' she wound her arm about his neck and laid her cheek against his -- `` there is no daddy ! '' And Old Man Shaw looked silently at the sunset -- or , rather , through the sunset to still grander and more radiant splendours beyond , of which the things seen were only the pale reflections , not worthy of attention from those who had the gift of further sight . VII . Aunt Olivia 's Beau Aunt Olivia told Peggy and me about him on the afternoon we went over to help her gather her late roses for pot-pourri . We found her strangely quiet and preoccupied . As a rule she was fond of mild fun , alert to hear East Grafton gossip , and given to sudden little trills of almost girlish laughter , which for the time being dispelled the atmosphere of gentle old-maidishness which seemed to hang about her as a garment . At such moments we did not find it hard to believe -- as we did at other times -- that Aunt Olivia had once been a girl herself . This day she picked the roses absently , and shook the fairy petals into her little sweet-grass basket with the air of a woman whose thoughts were far away . 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 XXXXX the sofa , and the crochet antimacassar was always spread at precisely the same angel over the horsehair rocking chair .
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