She laid her cool hand against my cheeks, which were burning.
"Little Kitty, you are very young," she said. "Don't—don't be in a hurry. Perhaps some day—"
Then she stopped and thought, and presently she asked—
"What of young Bowman? I hear you and he are great friends."
"He may call himself so," I said, and I could have cried.
"Is that all? I fancied—"
"We know him very well," I said; "and he likes us. So, I suppose, we are friends. Only he gets so—"
"So what?" she asked.
"So cross," I said— "and disagreeable. I hate people to be cross and disagreeable."
"You would like to bask in sunshine always, wouldn't you?"