Cassy felt pleased, but did not know exactly what to say in reply.
“Are you the only girl?” Eleanor asked.
“Yes,” Cassy replied; “there are only Jerry and me.”
“I am the only one,” Eleanor told her. “Don’t you wish you had a sister? I often do.”
“Yes, so do I,” Cassy answered. She would like to have told Eleanor of the new friend of her fancy, Miss Morning-Glory, but she did not feel well enough acquainted yet, and for a little while the two children sat looking at each other wondering what to say next. Then Rock came in.
“How is the puppy?” he asked.
“Oh, didn’t you know? He has gone to live with the milkman,” Cassy told him. “Mother thought he would be so much better off there. He lives in the country, you know, and he said Ragged Robin was a real nice little fellow, and he’d be glad to have him, but we were awfully sorry to let him go.”
“Is that the little dog you were telling me about?” asked Eleanor, turning to Rock.
“Yes, you know, Jerry saved him from that pack of boys,” he made answer. “Why don’t you take Cassy up-stairs to the sitting-room, Eleanor? It is lots more cheerful up there; or maybe she’d rather go into the garden, she’s such a lover of flowers.”
“We might go up-stairs and see Aunt Dora first,” said Eleanor, “and go to the garden after a while. Don’t you think so, Cassy?”