“But he is so fond of you.”
“I wish he wasn’t then. Why, Babie, are you going to cry? What’s the matter?”
“It is very silly,” said Babie, winking hard to get rid of her tears; “but it does hurt me so to think of the good old gentleman caring more for you than anybody, and you not liking to go near him.”
“I can’t see what it matters to you,” said Elvira; “I wish you would go instead of me, if you are so fond of him.”
“He wouldn’t care for me,” said Babie; “I’m not his ain lassie.”
“His lassie! I’m a lady,” exclaimed the senorita, with the haughty Spanish turn of the neck peculiar to herself.
“That’s not what I mean by a lady,” said Babie.
“What do you mean by it?” said Elvira, with a superior air.
“One who never looks down on anybody,” said Babie, thoughtfully.
“What nonsense!” rejoined the Elf; “as if any lady could like to hear grandpapa maunder, and Mary scold and scream at the farm people, just like the old peahen.”