“Nor seen to your room?”
Blue Bonnet looked surprised. “No, Aunt Lucinda; did you expect me to? I never did at home.”
“Then it is quite time that you began, Elizabeth. If you will come upstairs with me you shall have your first lesson. I consider it most necessary that a young girl should be taught to depend on herself as much as possible.”
Blue Bonnet followed silently. Her room was just as she had left it on going down to breakfast that morning. Now, with the noon sunshine flooding it, and with Aunt Lucinda looking about with grave disapproving eyes, it looked very untidy indeed.
Blue Bonnet sighed longingly for Benita, as she picked up the dress she had worn the day before and carried it to the big empty closet. Then she turned to the open trunk, out of which she had hurriedly pulled various things needed in dressing, that morning.
But Miss Clyde laid a detaining hand on her shoulder. “We will dispose of the things already out before unpacking further, Elizabeth.”
The end of the next hour found Blue Bonnet far from at peace with all her particular world.
“As if it really mattered,” she said to herself, sitting forlornly in a corner of one of the low window-seats, “which drawer you put things in; or whether the quilt is on just so. And I haven’t been idling my morning, I’ve been making a friend; and I don’t want to learn to keep house;—anyway, Benita wouldn’t let me keep house if I could.”
She sat up at the sound of a light tap on her door; then the door opened and her grandmother came in.