Miss Fletcher's face changed. This was a contingency that had not occurred to her.
"Oh, do say yes," persisted the child. "I want you to see my flowers, and Flossie says she'd love to. I'll come up and wheel her down there."
"Flossie can go some day, yes," replied aunt Hazel reluctantly; "but I don't visit much. I'm set in my ways."
"Hannah, uncle Dick's housekeeper, suggested it herself," pursued Hazel, thinking that perhaps her own invitation was not sufficient, "and I know uncle Dick would be glad. You said," with sudden remembrance, "that you used to know him."
Miss Fletcher's lips were their grimmest. "I've spanked him many a time," she replied deliberately.
"Spanked him!" repeated the child, staring in still amazement.
The grim lips crept into a grimmer smile. "Not very hard; not hard enough, I've thought a good many times since."
Hazel recovered her breath. "You knew him when he was little?"
"I certainly did. No, child, don't ask me to go out of my tracks. You come here all you will, and if you'll be very careful you can wheel Flossie up to your garden some day. Come, now, are you going to read us that story? I see you brought it."
"Yes, I brought it," replied Hazel, in a rather subdued voice. She saw that there was some trouble between this kind, new friend and her dear uncle Dick, and the discovery astonished her. How could grown-up people not forgive one another?