“Maybe Alec’ll go with me. I wish I had Don; he went everywhere at home with me. He’s the dearest dog, Grandmother.”
“I rather think Don is happier where he is, dear; and now we must go down to dinner.”
That afternoon Blue Bonnet was in her own room, just finishing a letter to her uncle, when Miss Clyde came to her door. “Elizabeth,” she said, “Sarah Blake has come to call upon you. She is the minister’s daughter, a most estimable young person. I sincerely hope you may become friends.” She scanned Blue Bonnet critically. “You would do well to change your gown and tidy your hair. Be as quick as possible; it is never good taste to keep a guest waiting.”
Five minutes later, Blue Bonnet came slowly downstairs; pausing on the landing long enough to declare under her breath that she was perfectly sure she should hate Sarah Blake.
Sarah was waiting in the darkened front parlor. She was short and fair; rather unimaginative and decidedly conscientious. She very much disliked calling upon strangers, and for that reason had chosen the earliest opportunity to come and see Blue Bonnet.
“How do you do?” she said, as Blue Bonnet appeared. “Mrs. Clyde asked me to come and see you. I hope you will like Woodford.”
“So do I,” Blue Bonnet answered. “Would you mind coming outside?” she added. “It’s much nicer.”
They went out to the shady front piazza where Blue Bonnet drew forward a couple of wicker armchairs. “Now I can see what you look like,” she announced frankly; “it was so dark in there.”
Sarah looked rather uncomfortable at this.