“Grandfather will expect me to. Besides, when you are in Woodford, do as—”
“You like,” Blue Bonnet cut in.
“I’m afraid that is hardly a Woodford sentiment.”
“As if I didn’t know that! Will you come for a ride? I suppose Uncle Cliff’s gone in town.”
“It’ll have to be a short ride,” she said, as, a few moments later, Victor and Darrel’s mare started off. “I wish Aunt Lucinda wasn’t so fond of saying, just as one’s starting off, ‘Remember, Blue Bonnet, in before dark!’ It does get dark so early now.”
“But if she didn’t say it—would you remember?” Alec laughed.
“I don’t see why a forgettory isn’t just as desirable as a memory,” Blue Bonnet protested. “I’ve got such a good one.”
“Aunt Lucinda,” she asked at supper that evening, “did you ever try for the ‘Sargent prize?’”
“Won it three years running,” Mrs. Clyde answered for her daughter.
“Oh, me!” Blue Bonnet buttered her biscuit thoughtfully. “Wasn’t that mighty hard on the others, Grandmother?”