“I’d rather see our purple hills and the river than brick walls; we have ever so much more view,” said Cassy, triumphantly.
“You are getting very top-lofty,” returned her mother. “I remember a little girl who, not a year ago, thought it would be paradise to get inside this place, and now she thinks it is rather contracted.”
“Oh, but I love it, too, though I like my own home better.” She sat with folded hands looking very thoughtful after this. Her mother watched her for a little while.
“A penny for your thoughts,” she said, gaily. She was often quite gay and smiling these days, different from that quiet, patient, gentle mother who had always smiled so sadly and who had to work so hard for her children.
Cassy held out her hand.
“The penny, please,” she said. “I was thinking about Mrs. Boyle and the parrot and Billy Miles and all those people, and I was wondering whether I ought to go and say good-bye to them.”
“Do you want to?”
“Not exactly. I do for some reasons.”
“What reasons?” Her mother looked at her with a half smile.
“I believe you know, mother.” She hung her head. “I would like them to know we are going to have our own lovely little home, and I would like to show off before the girls a little.”