“Can’t get down, aunty,” said Ladybird, between her choking sobs; “it’s easy enough to get up, but I can’t get down; the shelves will come down if I try.”
“Then what do you propose to do?” exclaimed Miss Priscilla, exasperated beyond measure at her ridiculous relative.
“I don’t know,” said Ladybird, cheerfully, her tears quite dried by the interest of the situation in which she now found herself; “I expect I shall have to stay up here always.”
“Don’t be silly,” said her aunt. “And I don’t want my shelves broken. I will send Matthew for the step-ladder, and you must come down at once.”
Once more on the floor, with Cloppy still clasped in her arms, Ladybird looked at her aunts’ faces and sagely concluded they had come in search of her to propose a truce. Always ready to meet them half-way, she sat down in her little chair and said pleasantly:
“I’m sorry I cried; but I couldn’t help it. I always have to cry until my tears are all gone, and then I feel better.”
“Well, dearie,” began Aunt Dorinda, “we’re sorry to make you feel bad, but—”
“But,” interrupted Miss Priscilla, “we’re older than you are, and we know what is best for you; but we do not wish you to have no pleasure, and so, if you will give up your absurd idea of helping Stella Russell, we will let you have a children’s party.”
“A very nice children’s party,” supplemented Aunt Dorinda.
“I don’t want any children’s party,” said Ladybird; “but it would comfort me to have hot waffles and syrup for supper.”