A glossy bright stream of carmine red, reminiscent of the strawberry jam I"d had the other morning, trickled down Aunt Mat"s right temple. She was seated on the floor, looking pained and perplexed. A crumpled, nondescript white handkerchief lay alongside.
“Keeee-rist,” Percival whispered, his face growing paler than Adwin"s.
Linda, Rey and I raced to her side.
“Prunella, call an ambulance and get Lewis.” I dropped to my knees and peered at the wound.
Percival ran an anxious hand through his hair. “Is she –”
“Of course I"m not, you ding-dong! You have eyes, don"t you? I"m far from dead. Nor am I comatose or even badly injured. I do, however, have a headache that could fell an elk.” Aunt Mat scowled. “Don"t call anyone, Prunella, I"ll be fine.” She placed a hand on my shoulder and with
