The white figure came on out of the sunshine into the shadow where Blanche Aurora stood transfixed.
"You good little thing," said Linda slowly, and she put an arm around the small shoulders and stooping, kissed a burning cheek.
"Where's the bowl?" demanded Blanche Aurora, her emotion driving her to take refuge in the practical.
"Among Miss Benslow's sweet-pea vines," returned Linda, her dimple at its deepest. "He—we dropped it, and it broke."
"And that Bavarian cream?"
"I suppose the hens ate it up in no time," confessed the messenger.
"I won't trust you again," said Blanche Aurora, with shining eyes. "Mr. King must be starved."
"No, I fed him with tea and cakes. Please trust me again. Please send me back to-morrow."
The little girl and the big girl exchanged a long look; and during it the possibility dawned upon the elder that this infant had designed and carried out a plan!
She colored slowly, continuing to gaze into the shining eyes, but Blanche Aurora retired demurely with a word about supper, and alone in the kitchen executed a dance which threatened every stick of furniture in the place.