“Ah! if Katharine were like your own daughters, I should have no fears,” said the aunt. “But— However, since you are so good—if she will promise to be very careful—”
“Oh yes, yes, Aunt Barbara!”
“I make myself responsible,” said Lord de la Poer. “Now, young woman, run off and get the hat; we have no time to lose.”
Kate darted off and galloped up the stairs at a furious pace, shouted “Josephine” at the top; and then, receiving no answer, pulled the bell violently; after which she turned round, and obliged Adelaide with a species of dancing hug, rather to the detriment of that young lady’s muslin jacket.
“I was afraid to look back before,” she breathlessly said, as she released Adelaide; “I felt as if your papa were Orpheus, when
‘Stern Proserpine relented,
And gave him back the fair—’
and I was sure Aunt Barbara would catch me like Eurydice, if I only looked back.”
“What a funny girl you are, to be thinking about Orpheus and Eurydice!” said Adelaide. “Aren’t you glad?”
“Glad? Ain’t I just! as Charlie would say. Oh dear! your papa is a delicious man; I’d rather have him for mine than anybody, except Uncle Wardour!”
“I’d rather have him than anyone,” said the little daughter. “Because he is yours,” said Kate; “but somehow, though he is more funny and good-natured than Uncle Wardour, I wouldn’t—no, I shouldn’t like him so well for a papa. I don’t think he would punish so well.”