“But, my dear child,” said Humphreys, “I told you I didn’t come down here in the interest of that philanthropic scheme of yours; I came only to see you. And now it’s your turn to tell me who you are.”
“Me? Oh, I’m just Ladybird.”
“Is that your real name?”
“No, I suppose not,” with a slight frown; “my aunties say it is Lavinia; but I never knew that till I came here. They say, too, I’m fourteen years old; but I know I’m twelve. And they say I used to have yellow hair and blue eyes; but I can’t think I ever did, can you?”
“It is hard to think so,” said Humphreys, looking at the little brown face with its big dark eyes and elfish wisps of straight black hair. “At the same time, I dislike to doubt your aunts’ word. Why do they have such apparently contradictory notions?”
“I don’t know,” said Ladybird; “I’ve only lived here a little while, you know. My mama was my aunts’ younger sister, and she ran away with my papa, and they lived in India. And I lived there, too, until papa died; and then I was sent here to aunties’. And at first my aunties didn’t like me a bit, and didn’t want me to stay; but I had to stay, so of course they had to like me. You can’t live with people without liking them, you know.”
“Can’t you?” said Humphreys. “And do you like them?”
“Yes,” said Ladybird, “I love them. I love Aunt Dorinda best; but I love Aunt Priscilla most.”
“I should like to know them,” said Humphreys. “Can’t you take me in and introduce me to them?”
“I will pretty soon,” said Ladybird; “but first I want to settle about Stella.”