"It's from Uncle Harvey! I know his writing. And it has got the English postmark."
"Mittie! how dare you? Give it to me this instant!"
Julia made a forward step, and Mittie sprang to the open door, where she stood as if meditating flight.
"Don't get cross, Aunt Julia, 'cause, if you're cross, I won't give it you at all," the child said saucily, and she shook her great mane of flaxen hair, looking out from the bush with soft black eyes. "Mother always says people have got to keep good-tempered, whatever anybody does. It isn't lady-like to be cross, you know."
"Francesca! make her give it to me!" gasped Julia, not daring to advance, lest child and letter should vanish.
Mrs. Trevor laughed. "Come, Mittie, don't be a little plague," she said.
"I like being a little plague," asserted Mittie.
"I daresay you do; but just give the letter up now, without any fuss— there's a good child."
"Then Aunt Julia isn't to be cross."
"Of course she won't. Do be quick, Mittie."