“Would you rather that Audrey should treat Annis badly?”
“No—at least—oh, grandma, I suppose I have a horrid disposition, but I do believe I would almost rather she would be hateful, so I could have an excuse for keeping Annis all to myself. Just see into what a Valley of Humiliation you are driving me.”
“My darling, I think the fact that you have confessed it will make it much easier for you to run past the lions in your path. Now let us get at the real, honest truth. Annis is a dear, forgiving little girl. She is magnanimous enough to accept the advances the girls are making, so she will win herself hosts of friends of whom you are surely not selfish enough to wish to deprive her. There is not the slightest evidence that she loves you any the less, and she would have very narrow quarters in her heart if there were not room for others besides yourself. You have your two sisters, your mother and father, and your old granny to love you, and yet you do not want Annis to win the affection of any one but her mother and yourself.”
“Oh, grandma, not quite that. I want all my family to love her.”
“Yes; I admit I am describing your rags as being in a shabbier state than they are. It isn’t as bad as that; but you see what I mean.”
“Yes, I do, and I wish I were not so exacting.”
“Girls usually are more so than boys. Let me dive into that mental scrap-bag for an experience to point the moral. Let me see. I was a little older than you when I estranged my best girl friend because I was too exacting. She had gone on a visit to a young relative, and I demanded a letter every week from her. So when one, two, three weeks passed and no letter came I felt much aggrieved. I heard indirectly of her good times, and fancied the girl cousin whom she was visiting had taken my place. When my friend returned home I did not go near her, and when after a few days she came to see me I sent word that I wished to be excused to callers. So time went on till the situation became awkward, and I did not know how to meet Alice. Later on I heard that she had written the first week and the letter miscarried; so, receiving no reply, she did not write again at once, and later a sprained wrist prevented. But it was too late to explain my coldness upon the excuse of such a trifle, and she never felt the same. I remember my brother, to whom I took my woes, gave me a piece of advice on the subject. ‘Never gauge a friendship by letters, first, because there may be a fault in the mail; secondly, because we are apt to invest written words with meanings not intended.’ My brother, I remember, told me, too, that he had a friend to whom he wrote once a year, and probably no friendship was ever closer than his and Henry Vaughan’s. Now, is my lecture long enough?”
Persis looked up, smiling. “It is so nice to think that you were once a silly girl,” she said. “It encourages me very much.”
Grandma laughed. “What are you going to do about Annis?” she asked.
Persis jumped up. “I am going there right away.”