'Well, I'm sure I do not know, if that's not the reason.'
'Oh! Linda, dear Linda, yes, you do,' said Katie, throwing herself on her knees, resting her arms on her sister's lap, and looking up wistfully into her sister's face. Her long hair was streaming down her back; her white, naked feet peeped out from beneath her bedroom dress, and large tears glistened in her eyes. Who could have resisted the prayers of such a suppliant? Certainly not Linda, the soft-hearted Linda.
'Do tell me,' continued Katie, 'do tell me—I am sure you know; and, Linda, if it is wrong to ask mamma about it, I'll never, never ask her again. I know mamma is unhappy about it. If my asking is wrong, I'll not make her unhappy any more in that way.'
Linda, for a while, did not know what to answer. Her hesitating manner immediately revealed to Katie that there was a secret, and that her sister could tell it if she would.
'Oh! Linda, do tell me, do tell me, dear Linda; you ought to tell me for mamma's sake.'
At last, with much hesitation, Linda told her the whole tale.
'Perhaps mamma thinks that you are too fond of Charley.'
An instant light flashed across Katie's heart—across her heart, and brain, and senses. Not another word was necessary to explain to her the whole mystery, to tell the whole tale, to reveal to her the secret of her own love, of her mother's fears, and of his assumed unwillingness. She got up slowly from her knees, kissed her sister's cheek and neck, smiled at her so sweetly, so sadly, and then sitting on her old seat, began playing with her long hair, and gazing at vacancy.
'It is only what I guess, you know, Katie—you would make me tell you, but I am sure there is nothing in it.'
'Dear Linda,' said she, 'you are so good; I am so much obliged to you.'