Tottie came to the rescue. "Say, I'll keep a' eye on the kid."
"Oh, will you?" cried Mrs. Colter, gratefully.
"Sure. Leave her."
"That's mighty nice of you.—And you be a good girl, Barbara."
"I will," promised the child, settling herself upon the settee with a happy smile.
A bell rang. "Ah, there she is now!" exclaimed Mrs. Colter, and as
Barbara sprang up, she ran to her and hastily tidied the gingham dress.
But Tottie was giving a touch to her appearance at the hall mirror.
"Nope," she declared over a shoulder. "She's got a key."
Though she heard the bell again, and it was now ringing impatiently, Mrs. Colter was not convinced. She knelt before Barbara, straightening a washed-out ribbon that stood up limply above the brown curls. "Now, come! Quiet!" she admonished.
Out of the pocket of the gingham, Barbara had brought a small and withered nosegay. There were asters in it, and a torn and woeful carnation. "See!" she cried. "I'm going to give Aunt Clare all these."
Tottie was gone to admit the visitor. Mrs. Colter lowered her voice. "Yes, honey," she agreed. "And you're goin' to tell your Aunt Clare what a nice place we've got in Poughkeepsie, and how much you like it, and——" The outer door had opened. She whispered an added suggestion.