"We haven't been up in almost a fortnight," said Hanny, laughing.
"The more need of our going now. I enjoy these superb days to the full."
Hanny went to get her hat. Grandmother generally took her nap early in the afternoon. Mother was not in her own room, she saw, as she looked in, so she ran on down. She was not in the kitchen either.
"Joe," she cried—there was no one in the office, and he sat with his legs stretched out, and a book on the table beside him, looking very comfortable,—"Joe, where is mother?"
"Up with grandmother, dear. Don't disturb her. What did you want?"
"Oh, nothing—only to say—we are going up to the fair."
"Very well; run along. You look as sweet as a pink."
A bright color flashed over her face, and settled in her dimple, making it look like a rose as she smiled.
She was putting on her blossom-coloured lace mitts as she entered the room. Some one else thought she looked as sweet as a pink when he rose, and led the way.
She turned down the street.