Explore "Auntie Robbo" by Ann Scott-Moncrieff on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"This is very nice, very nice indeed," said Auntie Robbo, stretching her slippered feet to the blaze of peat and driftwood on the hearth. A cup of coffee was at her elbow, and the two boys blinked up at her from the firelit rug. "I haven't felt so much at home since we left Nethermuir."
She looked it too. While Hector and Pete had been boiling eggs and opening tins for the supper, Auntie Robbo had washed and brushed and coiffed herself, put on her purple silk taffeta gown and a selection of rings and brooches. It was a long time since she had been able to do this and she enjoyed it thoroughly. Now, with supper over, she was prepared to spend a pleasant evening talking.