“Oh, I’m not going to set you aside, aunty; that isn’t it. I’m just going to stay here and be your little girl—yours and Aunt Dorinda’s.”
“I think, sister, we might keep her a week on trial,” said Miss Dorinda, timidly.
Miss Dorinda always said everything timidly. In this respect she was not like her niece.
“I shall not keep her a week, nor a day; and no more hours than I can help. I am going now to write a note to Mr. Marks, and tell him to come back at once for her and her trunks. So, Miss Lavinia Lovell, you may as well get yourself ready, for this time you will have to go.”
“Do you know, it doesn’t seem to me as if I would go this time,” said Ladybird, thoughtfully; “it seems to me as if I would stay here years and years, until I get to be a dear old lady like you,” and she patted the top of Miss Priscilla’s head. Then she danced out of the room, and out to the garden, singing as she went:
“I am not going away to-day;
I’m going to stay and stay and stay.”
When the luncheon-bell rang, she danced back again, and seeing a letter on the hall-table addressed to Mr. Marks, she tore it into bits and threw it into the waste basket.
The gay good humor of their visitor was infectious, and the Flint ladies laughed and chatted over their luncheon, so that the meal was nearly over before Miss Priscilla said:
“Mr. Marks will call for you at three o’clock, Lavinia.”