Philippa thought this over a little.
“But,” she said at length, “I can’t possibly like Dan’s sister Becky yet, you know, because I’ve never seen her.”
“Meanwhile, then,” said Miss Mervyn, “you can try to be grateful to all the people you have seen and love, and who do so much for you every day. Perhaps if you see Becky, you will like her too, and then you will be so glad to make her happy, that you will not stop to think whether she is grateful or not.”
“What should you think,” pursued Philippa, “are the most nourishing things of all?”
Miss Mervyn bent her mind anxiously on the subject, and finally decided in favour of milk, eggs, and beef-tea.
“But,” objected Philippa, “they’re all nasty, except eggs. Can’t she have something nice? Jelly and tarts, and roast chickens?”
“Suppose,” said Miss Mervyn, “we write out a list of things, and then you can show it to your mother this evening, and hear what she thinks.”
That seemed a good plan to Philippa, and she was soon so absorbed in writing down desirable delicacies, that she would hardly consent to be dressed when the hour came for her to go to Mrs Trevor. Ready at last, she flew down-stairs in high spirits with the list in her hand, and at once burst into the story, jumbling up Becky, Dennis, Dan, and Tuvvy the wheelwright in such a manner that her mother gazed at her distractedly. Philippa was too excited to make things very clear, but at last Mrs Trevor gathered that for some reason or other she wished to go and see the sister of the boy who worked in the garden.
“And I want to take her these,” added Philippa, thrusting a long scrawled list before her mother’s eyes.
Mrs Trevor raised her eye-glasses and looked at it in despair.