"You like her better than you will own, though," said Amy, looking gaily in her cousin's face, "and a great deal better than you did."
"I don't know; I don't dislike her always; and I cannot bear to see that
Lucy Cunningham tormenting her so."
"And to-morrow you will not dislike her at all," continued Amy; "and the next day you will take her part, and the day after you will quite love her."
"No, I shall never love her. I am sure I am much more given to hating than loving. I am not like you, Amy, who seem to care for everything, and everybody."
"Not everything," said Amy, laughing; "your ugly tabby cat, for instance, Dora, I never could love that."
"Oh! that is compassion; I only pet her because all the rest abuse her."
"And Miss Morton, it is just the same with her."
Dora shook her head. "It is no use, Amy," she answered. "You know very well, that if I were to begin loving Emily Morton now, and to go on for the rest of my life, she never could like me in return."
"And why not?"
"Because—because—I cannot tell why; but I am sure she could not."