Aunt Dimity And The Buried Treasure - Plot & Excerpts
The study was dark and silent. I lit the mantel lamps, then knelt to light a fire in the hearth. The somber gleam in Reginald’s black button eyes seemed to soften in the firelight. I took it as a sign of encouragement, reached for the blue journal, and carried the slender volume with me to the armchair I’d occupied earlier. I stared into the fire, wondering what would happen when I opened the journal. Would its blank pages remain blank? Would they be covered with exclamation points and angry words written in BIG LETTERS? Would Aunt Dimity be cold and distant? Would she pretend that nothing had happened? I didn’t know what to expect. I was so worried about saying the wrong thing that my voice trembled slightly as I opened the journal and said, “Dimity?” My entire body relaxed when her handwriting appeared, flowing smoothly across the blank page without a moment’s hesitation. Please forgive me, my dear.
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