“My dear little girl,” said Humphreys, “you must get that notion out of your head. I told you in my letter that I did not come down in the interests of the fair Stella, but to see you.”
“Why did you want to see me?” said Ladybird, her big eyes wide with bewilderment.
“Because I wanted to know what kind of a child it was who wrote that letter.”
“And the governor didn’t send you?” cried Ladybird.
“No, of course the governor didn’t send me.”
“Oh, well, it’s all the same,” she said airily; “you came because I wrote that letter to the governor, so it doesn’t make any difference. And you’ll have to marry Stella, you know, because that’s what I sent for you for. You aren’t married to anybody else, are you?”
“No, of course not,” said the young man.
“Then that’s all right; and Stella is so sweet and beautiful you won’t mind it a bit.”
“You said she was beautiful, before,” observed Humphreys. “And now I think, if you please, we will go up to the house and see your aunts. I would like to pay my respects to them. You have a nice dog there.”
“Cloppy?” said Ladybird. “Yes; he is the beautifulest dog in the world.” She was kneading him like a mass of dough as she spoke. “He’s such a comfort! He never minds what I do to him.”