Many successive guests were treated with the same punctilious courtesy.
The Dorcas meeting came, the Dorcas meeting ate its supper, the Dorcas meeting went, and after the door of Primrose Hall had closed behind the last departing guest, Miss Priscilla said:
“Now, Lavinia, I will talk with you, if you please.”
“Good for you, aunty,” said Ladybird, clambering into her Aunt Priscilla’s lap and twining her thin brown arms about the old lady’s neck, thereby—although unconsciously—seriously modifying the tenor of the remarks which Miss Flint had meant to make.
“Lavinia,” she said, with much sternness in her voice.
“Now, aunty,” murmured Ladybird, “please!”
“Lavinia,” went on Miss Flint, unmoved by her niece’s words, “I am more pained than I can tell you at your unkindness to me to-day.”
“Aunty,” said Ladybird, solemnly, “I was more pained than I can tell you at your unkindness to me to-day.”
“But,” said Miss Priscilla, “you must realize, my child, that I am older than you are, and know more.”
“But, aunty,” said Ladybird, “you must realize that I am younger than you are, and care more.”