"You can't think what a trump she's been, Aunt Lucinda," Blue Bonnet said, straightening the bow at her grandmother's neck. "A regular brick! Why, she's had all the girls at her feet this blessed summer."
"It would have been more to the point if I had had them in hand," her grandmother replied; making haste to add, as she met Blue Bonnet's puzzled eyes, "not but that they were good girls, very good girls indeed."
Blue Bonnet whistled to Solomon and went out of the front door, banging it carelessly. Miss Clyde looked annoyed.
"I am afraid we are going to have to begin all over again with Blue Bonnet," she said with some concern. "She seems so hoydenish. I noticed it immediately."
"It is a good deal the exuberance of youth, Lucinda. Surplus energy has to be worked off somehow. We must be patient with her."
"I have been thinking," Miss Clyde replied, "that it would be wise not to enter Blue Bonnet in the Boston school immediately. If we could keep her with us until after the holidays we could perhaps interest her in some home duties—the girls will all be in school, and we could have her more to ourselves, and, perhaps, smooth down some of these rough corners."
Mrs. Clyde looked wistful.
"I shall miss the dear child so," she said. "I wish we might keep her with us a bit longer. Boarding-school will be the beginning of a long break, I fear."
"It is because of the association that I particularly wish her to enter Miss North's school. She will meet refined girls from some of our old New England families, and the influence cannot fail to be helpful. I hope she will not be tempted to tell them that her grandmother is a brick," Miss Clyde added as an afterthought, but her smile was indulgent rather than critical.
"Girls are much the same the world over," her mother answered with the wisdom of experience. "Blue Bonnet is very like her mother. She was a great romp, but she passed the hoydenish period in safety, so will Blue Bonnet; never fear."