“Nothing,” called back Stella, quickly; “nothing but your delightful society. Come and sit with us.”
“Thank you, we will,” said Ladybird, who was accompanied by Lavinia; and the two children came and seated themselves on the grass under the old apple-tree.
“We’re getting acquainted with each other,” said Ladybird, as, drawing a long sigh, she settled herself in a comfortable position, and rolled Cloppy into a small ball in her lap.
“How do you like the process?” said Stella, turning to Lavinia with a pleasant smile.
“She doesn’t like it a bit,” said Ladybird; “but she’s too polite to say so. You see,” she went on, “we’re half-sisters, Lavinia and I, and so we only half like each other. She only likes half the things I like. She likes me, but she doesn’t like Cloppy. She likes my aunts,—her aunts, I mean,—but she doesn’t like Primrose Hall.”
“Well, then, what of us?” said Chester, indicating himself and Stella. “I suppose she likes only one.”
“I suppose so,” said Ladybird, her eyes dancing; “but I don’t know which one.”
“Never mind,” said Stella, hastily. “We don’t want to know which one. We’re both vain enough now. But tell me, Lavinia, don’t you like Primrose Hall?”
“No,” said Lavinia, who was of a straightforward, not to say blunt, nature, “I don’t. It’s not like England, and though my aunts are very kind, they’re not like my grandmother.”
“You mean your grandmother Lovell, I suppose?” said Chester.