“Oh, you are. Well, my twelve-year-old Solomon, what is it that Stella Russell wants and can’t get?”
“You don’t want beauty,” said Ladybird, who was gazing in sheer delight at the lovely face before her, “for you’ve got it; and I think you have education, and accomplishments, and all those things. But you want to be in a place where you can give all those things to others and take some of theirs in return.”
“You’re a witch,” said Stella, looking at the pale child before her with amazement.
“Oh, I know,” went on Ladybird, her big eyes growing bigger, and her head nodding most expressively. “You want to be among people who talk quick, shining talk that doesn’t mean much, but that’s witty and bright, and most pleasant to hear; and people can’t talk like that unless they have a whole lot of big knowledge, too, that they can use when they need it; and of course,” and now the head was shaking slowly from side to side, “the Plainville people aren’t like that.”
“No, they’re not,” said Stella. “But will you please tell me how you know all this?”
“I know it,” said Ladybird, “because it is true, that’s all. I always know true things; and besides, my mamma ran away from Plainville because she wanted to marry my papa, who was the other kind.”
“Well, I can’t run away,” said Stella, laughing.
“You could if you had any one to run with,” said Ladybird, gravely.
“Well, perhaps I could, but I certainly wouldn’t.”
“No, I s’pose you wouldn’t.”