“Aunt Ellen,” Octavia said cheerfully, throwing black like-minded gloves at an important Persian cat on the windowsill. I am a poor man.. "You like to exaggerate so much, dear Octavia," Aunt Ellen said softly, dropping the paper. “If you don’t have any candy now, look for my wallet in your desk drawer.” Octavia Bopri took off her hat and, with her hands on her knees, sat down on a low bench next to her aunt's chair. But even in this uncomfortable position, her delicate figure, dressed in a fashionable mourning suit, did not lose its grace. Octavia tried in vain to give the seriousness required by the circumstances to her young, lively face and sparkling, cheerful eyes.