"I shall always want to go," said Faith emphatically; "he talks nearly as nice as Timothy, only different, but they both talk to me in a understanding way."
Charity laughed.
"It isn't very hard to understand you," she said.
Faith coloured and crept away with her feelings a little hurt. Hope came after her.
"Never mind, Faith. Let's come and put Rose and Violet to bed. They're up in the apple tree. Charity is always saying nasty things, but she doesn't mean them. But she says you're trying to get religious like the children in books. And that's priggy, you know!"
"I'm sure I don't mean to be," said Faith disconsolately.
But she cheered up when they were out in the sunny orchard; and the putting of the dolls to bed was a serious business, and occupied her time and thoughts. Faith had been going to the Towers for two or three weeks, when one Saturday afternoon she arrived home in a state of the greatest excitement, bearing a covered basket in her arms.
"Oh, Aunt Alice," she cried, as she met her Aunt at the door, "I have the loveliest, darlingest little black and white puppy, and he's all my own. Mr. Cardwell gave him to me. We were looking out of the window at his mother rolling him over and over, and there were three more, one yellow and brown, and the other all black and—"
"Stop, stop! Not quite so fast," said Aunt Alice. "I don't want to disappoint you, but we cannot keep dogs here, and you should not have brought him before asking leave first."
"But Mr. Cardwell gave him to me, he really did."