“I don’t see how I can leave home at present,” her uncle answered. “Perhaps I’ll hear of some one going East who’ll be willing to look after you.”
“It’ll seem funny to go to school with other girls,” Blue Bonnet said. “I wonder how I’ll like going to school.”
“I reckon you’ll be learning a good many lessons of various kinds, Honey.” Mr. Ashe spoke a little wistfully. It was hard to realize that Blue Bonnet was going away.
The girl looked up soberly; his words had somehow reminded her of Aunt Lucinda’s letter. A sudden dread of the writer of it seized her. “Uncle Cliff,” she asked, “what are they like—Grandmother and Aunt Lucinda?”
“Suppose you wait and find out for yourself, Honey.”
“I wish Aunt Lucinda hadn’t been so much older than Mamma. Uncle Cliff, have you ever been in Woodford?”
“No, Honey; it’s a right pretty place, I reckon. You’ll have to write and tell me all about it.”
“And you’ll answer, won’t you? You’ll write very often?”
“Of course, Honey; but I don’t know what I’ll find to tell you—you won’t care about ranch talk.”
“But you’ll write? You’ve promised—and you’ve never broken a promise to me,” Blue Bonnet said.