“Why, Stella,” cried Ladybird, innocently, “are you there? Won’t you come down; or shall we come up?”
“I’m not coming down,” said Stella; “and if you choose to come up, I shall be glad to receive you. There are plenty of vacant seats.”
“Thank you,” said Ladybird, “we’ll be delighted. Will you go first, Mr. Humphreys?”
Being sufficiently athletic, Chester Humphreys swung himself up by the low branches, and after shaking hands with Miss Russell, comfortably settled himself on a bough near her.
“Will you look at that child!” exclaimed Stella, pointing down the orchard, where, among the trees, Humphreys could see Ladybird’s flying figure, running as if her life depended upon it.
“What is she, anyway?” he exclaimed. “I never saw such a child. And yet she fascinates me by her very queerness.”
“She is fascinating,” said Stella; “and she has the dearest, sweetest nature in the world. I don’t always understand her vagaries, but I do understand her warm, loving heart, and her brave, impetuous soul.”
“She doesn’t seem to inherit the characteristics of her aunts,” said Humphreys.
“No, she is not like them, except in her courage and indomitable will. Her father must have been something unusual. She is probably like him.”
