“I knew I should find you,” she cried, kissing Anna, while Gerald held out a finger or two without rising. “I thought you would not be gone primrosing.”
“A perspicacity that does you credit,” said Gerald, still behind his paper.
“Are the cousins gone?” asked Anna.
“Of course they are; Cousin Marilda, in a bonnet like a primrose bank, is to pick up Fernan somewhere, but I told her I was too true to my principles to let wild horses drag me there.”
“Let alone fat tame ones,” ejaculated Gerald.
“What did she say?” asked Anna.
“Oh, she opened her eyes, and said she never should ask any one to act against principles, but principles in her time were for Church and State. Is Aunt Cherry in the vortex?”
“No, she is reading to Uncle Clem, or about the house somewhere. I don’t think she would go now at least.”
“Uncle Grin’s memory would forbid,” muttered Gerald. “He saw a good many things, though he was a regular old-fashioned Whig, an Edinburgh Review man.”
“You’ve got the ‘Censor’ there! Oh, let me see it. My respected cousins don’t think it good for little girls. What are you going to do?”