"If you want to laugh, you may," said Lottie, seeing her difficulty, and appreciating it, as was shown by the merry twinkle in her bright black eyes.
"No, no, I must not laugh," said Flora, squeezing her friend's arm affectionately. "I'm so sorry that your mother is dead. Where does your aunt live? I will come and see you."
"No, you—I mean you—can't—that is, she won't let you," stammered Lottie, blushing hotly.
"Yes, I understand. It is all right. It is not your fault," said Flora, hastily, appreciating the situation; and wishing to relieve the embarrassment of the other, she added, "You can come and see me."
"I don't know," answered Lottie, glad to find that Flora understood. "I hardly think she would let me come. I have not asked her to go anywhere, as yet. I have been with her about five weeks, and this is the first time I have been out, except on an errand. She says she doesn't approve of girls 'gadding the streets.' I must go now. I have stayed longer than I ought to already, for I had a long walk before I saw you. Flora," she added, an instant later, as she glanced at the window, "isn't that a potato in that jar?"
"Yes," answered Flora, "it is the same one you gave me when I was leaving Brinton."
"Really? The very same?"
"Yes. You know you told me not to eat it, and I didn't know what to do with it at first. Then I thought it would look very nice if I put it in the window; I did, and it has grown splendidly and has kept green all winter."
"I am so glad you thought of that, Flora, because that was what I first noticed as I passed. And I thought it looked like a sweet-potato vine. And then, you know," Lottie continued, "if you hadn't I should not have stopped or seen you ever, because I did not know where you were going when you came away. But what will my aunt say? I guess I'll not get anything for supper but a bit of tongue, and I don't fancy that, I can tell you. Good-bye." And with a hurried kiss, and a warm embrace, Lottie hurried down the street.
She was sorry to go, as it was so good to meet somebody she knew—somebody connected with the old, happy home-life, for while Lottie's mother lived, she had been very happy. But now she was so lonely.