“Is she? then it will seem quite natural to you.” She smiled again and nodding to the two girls, she left them together in the pleasant room. It was not long before they were playing like old friends. Indeed before the morning was over Cassy felt so at home with Eleanor that she told her all about Miss Morning-Glory, and had confessed her discomfort at having to wear a frock she had so nearly outgrown.
Eleanor comforted her upon this last score.
“I am sure it is a real pretty plaid,” she said, “and the warm weather is coming when you won’t have to wear it.” Nevertheless, Cassy knew that she had nothing else so good, and that it would be some time before she could lay this aside. Eleanor was quite taken with the idea of Cassy’s imaginary friend, and suggested that she should make a third in their plays. “It is just as easy to make believe that she is here as to make believe that the dolls can talk,” she declared. “What does she look like?”
“She looks just like you,” Cassy told her a little timidly.
“Oh, then, I’ll be Miss Morning-Glory,” declared Eleanor. “Would you like that?”
Cassy’s eyes showed her pleasure, as she nodded “Yes.”
“Then you won’t feel as if I were a stranger at all, and you can talk to me just as you do to her,” Eleanor went on to say.
This did place Cassy upon easier terms with her new friend, and if Eleanor was sometimes surprised by Cassy’s odd remarks, she was none the less interested in the little girl, though she did not wonder that Cassy’s schoolmates called her Miss Oddity. A little girl who felt entirely at home with spiders, who thought daddy-long-legs fascinating, and who would make such remarks as: “You remember the dear little inching-worm I had last summer, Miss Morning-Glory. I always feel so sorry to think I shall never see it again,” was a queer person surely.
About one o’clock Rock appeared.
“What time will Jerry be here?” he asked Cassy.