“Well, you see, there never was a brook there,” said Dick, pleasantly. “Only Lake Michigan, and that was too big to be any fun.”
“Oh, isn’t Heatherton lovely?” exclaimed Dolly, her big, dark eyes full of rapture.
She had again possessed herself of Miss Rachel’s hand and was patting it, and incidentally transfering some “good, brown earth” to it, from her own little paw.
Though Dolly had planned their mode of entrance, she had forgotten all about it now, and her affectionate demonstrations were prompted only by her own loving little heart, and not by an effort to be tactful.
In her enthusiasm over the beautiful country-side, she fairly bubbled over with love and affection for all about her.
“Are you both so fond of the country, then?” said Miss Abbie, a little curiously.
“Yes, we love it,” declared Dick, “and we’ve ’most never seen it. Auntie Helen always liked fashionable places in summer, and of course in winter we were in Chicago.”
“And we were naughty,” said Dolly, with a sudden burst of contrition, “to go wading in the brook in our good clothes. Mrs. Halkett told us ’spressly not to get soiled or even rumpled before we saw you. And we’re sorry we did,—but, oh! that brook! When can we go there again? To-morrow?”
“Or this afternoon,” said Dick, sidling up to Aunt Rachel; “it isn’t late, is it?”
The twins had instinctively discerned that Miss Rachel was the one of whom to ask permission. Aunt Abbie seemed more lovable, perhaps, but without a doubt Aunt Rachel was the fixer of their fate.