“She is not ill at all,” said Miss Priscilla.
“Oh, yes I am, aunty,” cried a roguish voice, and Ladybird flew into the room.
She was dressed in her new red frock, her eyes were starry and dancing, and Cloppy was perched on her shoulder. He wore a red neck-ribbon, and a festive air generally.
“I’m awful miserable, aunty,” Ladybird went on: “I have a misery in my foot; but I’m so glad to see Stella that it may cure it. She may stay to dinner, mayn’t she, aunty?”
Taken thus by storm, Miss Flint could only say yes. So Stella stayed.
Such a merry dinner as it was! Ladybird was in her element. She made such droll remarks, and her gaiety was so infectious, that Chester Humphreys appeared quite at his best; and his best was very good indeed.
Stella looked radiant, and met Mr. Humphreys’s banter with a pretty, graceful wit of her own.
The Flint ladies, though a little bewildered, were affected by the general joyousness of the atmosphere, and beamed most amiably.
After dinner they all sat on the veranda.
“Stella might sing for us,” suggested Ladybird, in an insinuating tone.