"It's very amusing to see all the new ways and things," she confided to her; "but this is a very dull house—at least it's a frozen one—that's what I call it. Andy is the only one who can laugh. You must be frozen if you can't laugh. And Aunt Diana is the snow queen; she'll slowly freeze me as she froze poor little Kay. Do you know Hans Andersen, Goody? Gerda found Kay at last, and melted him. I think she did it by crying over him. Kay had got a heart of ice. I couldn't cry over Aunt Diana if I tried ever so! I simply couldn't do it, so she must just go on as she is. But I won't get frozen myself if I can help it. Oh dear, it just seems like a year to-day. Will every day be the same, Goody?"
"I really can't keep pace with you, child! Never did I hear such a chatterer; and you mustn't talk of your aunt so. It isn't nice. She's very kind to have you in her house at all. She was never one for children, and she's lived too long alone now to get any different."
Goody sighed as she spoke. Harebell looked at her very gravely.
"I don't think you're frozen," she said slowly; "but I can't say anything but that this is a very dull, frozen house!"
The next few days passed in much the same way. A little dressmaker, from the village near, came to measure Harebell for new frocks. She was slightly deformed, but had a good patient face, and Harebell suddenly informed her that she loved her.
"There's a look in your eyes which I haven't seen since a nice missionary lady in India took me on her lap and talked to me about heaven," she said.
Miss Triggs smiled at the little girl.
"I'm glad you've had talks about heaven," she said, taking some pins out of her mouth and pausing in her fitting. "Is it your home, dearie? It's mine."
"It belongs to all of us," said Harebell, "doesn't it?"
Miss Triggs shook her head.