Leaning over, Blue Bonnet cuffed him lightly but firmly—which was hardly what Solomon had been looking for.
“Solomon, I told you to go,” his mistress said; and Solomon went.
“He minds pretty well, don’t you think?” Blue Bonnet asked. “I don’t believe he’s ever had to mind before he came here, and it comes a bit hard; but he’s got a lot of sense, and when he once understands that he—” Blue Bonnet stopped speaking rather abruptly, as her eyes met her grandmother’s. Jumping up, she went indoors.
A moment later, from the parlor came the plaintive sound of an old Spanish melody, that chimed in well with the softly gathering twilight.
“Elizabeth has her mother’s touch,” Mrs. Clyde said.
“Yes,” her daughter answered. Blue Bonnet’s mother had been very dear to the graver, older sister. It had not been easy for her to put her affection into words; but it had been none the less true and strong. Sometimes Miss Clyde thought that the girl’s likeness to her mother hurt almost as much as it comforted her.
“I wish we might have had the child earlier,” she said. “It would have been easier for both sides.”
Mrs. Clyde was smiling. “She ‘minds pretty well. I don’t believe she’s ever had to mind before she came here, and it comes a bit hard; but she’s got a lot of sense, and when she once understands that she—’ Elizabeth has preached her own sermon, Lucinda; and I think we may safely trust her to make the application.”
Blue Bonnet looked up at the old red brick Academy, half in curiosity, half in dismay. “It’s not very—cheerful-looking, is it, Aunt Lucinda? Did you like going to school here?”