“Oh, Mrs. Dixon, you are such a comfort,” returned Persis. “I am so glad not to give up Connie, for, I really like her, but I shall never again, never, insist upon carrying things with such a high hand. I was so indignant when Lisa suggested that I might make a mistake.”
“‘We are all poor critters,’” laughed Mrs. Dixon. “Where did you leave Connie?”
“Curled up in the library with a book.”
“Tell her we must get ready for a drive.” And Persis danced out of the room very happy that all difficult questions were explained.
“What are you reading, Con?” she asked, as she peeped into the quiet room.
“Oh, such a lovely book!” sighed Connie. “Isn’t it deliciously peaceful here, Persis? I mean to have just such a home when I grow up. I’m going to have shelves full of books, and an open fire, and a chair just like this,—it is a real sleepy hollow; and I’m going to have my bedroom facing the west, so I can always see the sunset, and all those pretty silver things Mrs. Dixon has on her dressing-bureau I’m going to have on mine.”
“What will Mrs. Dixon do?”
“I don’t mean I am going to have hers, goosey,—some just like them.”
Persis was balancing herself on the arm of a big chair. “Did you know that we are to go to the cricket club this afternoon?”
“No. Are we really?”