Edna shook her head and a sigh escaped her.
“I will arrange that Dorothy shall come,” said her mother quite firmly.
“It’s going to be much nicer than last year,” remarked Edna in a satisfied tone, “for I shall always have Celia to go to, and you will be so near, too, and besides I like Uncle Justus much better than I did at first.”
“Of the two I should think you would have more fear of Uncle Justus than of Aunt Elizabeth,” said her mother looking down at her.
“I did at first, but I found it was mostly on account of his eyebrows; they are so shaggy.”
Mrs. Conway smiled. “I have heard it said that he can be rather terrible,” she remarked.
“Oh, well, so he can, but he isn’t all the time and Aunt Elizabeth is.”
“I hope this year you will find out that it is only Aunt Elizabeth’s eyebrows, too.”
“It couldn’t be, for she hasn’t any to speak of,” returned Edna. As she talked she was carefully packing the little trunk in which Ada’s clothes were kept. It was a tiny trunk, only about six inches long. Aunt Elizabeth had made it, herself, by covering a box with leather and strapping the leather across with strips of wood glued on. Edna liked the trunk much better than a larger one which had been bought at the store. Aunt Elizabeth was very clever in making things of this kind and would sometimes surprise her little niece with some home-made gift which was the more prized because it was unusual. The child remembered this now and began to feel that she had not shown herself very grateful in speaking as she had done a moment before. “Mother,” she said. “I didn’t mean that Aunt Elizabeth was frightful all the time. She is very kind when she gives me things like this trunk.”
“You don’t mean frightful,” replied Mrs. Conway laughing, “you mean she is rather formidable.”