"I know that. May I have a day or two to think of it, Carrie?"
"As many as you like, so that you only come, dear. Now, I'm going off; I haven't a minute to spare.—By-the-by, Alice and Minnie will likely be at papa's, too, all December, so that is another inducement. Goodbye." She stooped and kissed Lucy, and ran out of the house.
Pretty soon Aunt Hepsy came in, looking very grave and sad. She took up her knitting, and for a bit neither spoke.
"Three months is a long time, Aunt Hepsy," said Lucy at last.
Aunt Hepsy never spoke.
Then Lucy rose and came to her, and laid her arm about her neck. "You don't want me to go, auntie, I know you don't."
"Go away; I didn't say I didn't," said Aunt Hepsy in her gruffest tones.
"Auntie, if you will only tell me you would rather I stayed, I won't go."
"Don't ask questions, child. I guess I'd never live through them three months. As well go away for ever almost."
"Then I won't go," said Lucy stoutly. "I'd dearly like to be at Carrie's wedding; but I can't leave you, auntie, for so long." And from that decision no persuasion could induce Lucy to depart—she was firm as a rock; but Aunt Hepsy made a little private arrangement of her own, which was to be kept a profound secret from the bride-elect.