"Yes," said her mother, "she has never had any very intimate friends, and her cousins have never paid her as long a visit as Florence has this time. As for Rock, he is the only boy she has ever liked at all, and he is a nice boy. You have quite a model son, Heath."
"Yes, I think so too," said he.
At last the trunks were all off, Celestine was dressed in her traveling frock, a grey veil on her hat; the children thought her very stylish.
"Poor Rubina!" sighed Dimple, bravely trying to keep back the tears.
Rock had volunteered to take charge of the two kittens, so Jet and Marble were mewing in a basket.
"And poor little Nyxy, you will be lonely too," said Dimple, hiding her face in his furry coat.
"You will be sure to write to us, won't you Dimple," said Florence, "and tell all about school, and everything."
"I will," said Dimple, choking up.
"Don't cry," said both Rock and Florence, coaxingly.
"No, I will not, I made up my mind not to, because mamma might think I didn't love her," answered Dimple, while her tears slowly trickled down her cheeks.