"What are you crying for, Granny?" she asked as she followed her into the kitchen. "How ridiculous! Why, it is just as if I were going away upon a visit; and you wouldn't be sorry then."
"It isn't because I'm sorry;—but—none of you have ever been away afore"—
Florence knitted her brows. How foolish to make such a fuss!
"There are so many of us, that we're like bees in a hive. You ought to be glad to have me go. And I dare say I shall ride over some day"—
"To be sure. But every one is missed."
Florence kissed the children all round, and was much mortified at the bundle tied up in a newspaper.
"If I get any money, I mean to buy a travelling-bag," she commented internally.
"Tate me too," exclaimed Dot, clinging to Florence's dress: luckily her hands were clean.
"Oh! you can't go, Dotty: Charlie will show you the beautiful chickens."
Dot set up a fearful cry, and wriggled herself out of Charlie's arms, and Granny took her. Florence hurried through her good-bys, and was glad to leave the confusion behind.