Loyal little Dolly tried, as always, to come to his rescue, and she said politely:
“Yes, indeed, Mrs. Fuller; we like it awfully well so far, but of course we haven’t been here very long yet.”
“And you think you won’t like it when you’ve been here longer! Is that it?”
Mrs. Fuller meant only to be jocose, but Dolly didn’t understand, and tried hard to explain.
“No ’m; I don’t mean that. I mean I think we’ll like it better after we live here a while.”
“I trust you will,” said Mrs. Fuller. “You must be hard to please if you don’t.”
Poor Dolly felt herself misunderstood, but she could think of nothing to say, so she sat silent, but, it seemed, this was not the right thing to do either.
“Speak up, child,” said Aunt Rachel, half playfully and half sharply; “didn’t you hear Mrs. Fuller’s remark?”
“Yes ’m,” said Dolly, “but,—but I don’t know what to answer.”
“Strange child,” murmured Mrs. Fuller. “Is the boy any more civil?”