XXIVPrissy drove back in a very good humour. She was pleased with herself. She thought of telling Aunt Hester that they had had a visitor, but decided that she wouldn’t. Aunt Hester was all right, but she was inclined to fuss, and she hadn’t seen Anne. It would be better if she didn’t say anything about her. Aunt Hester wasn’t very practical, yet she had had at least thirty years more of reading the papers than Prissy had. She knew a terrible lot about shady characters and tricks, and all sorts of things which oughtn’t to be but tried to pretend that they were. If you read too many of those things they get in the way of what you really know about people—of what a cat or a dog knows, or a child.
Prissy considered that she was very good at judging people and knowing what they were really li
