Aunt Grena pursed up her lips and looked doubtful; but as that was her usual answer to any question which took her by surprise, it was not altogether disheartening.
“I will consult my brother,” she said stiffly.
Mr Roberts, who was a little of the type of his brother the Justice, having been consulted, rather carelessly replied that he saw no reason why the maid should not amuse herself with the child if she wished it. Leave was accordingly granted. But Aunt Grena thought it necessary to add to it a formidable lecture, wherein Pandora was warned of all possible and impossible dangers that might accrue from the satisfaction of her desire, embellished with awful anecdotes of all manner of misfortunes which had happened to girls who wanted or obtained their own way.
“And methinks,” concluded Mistress Grena, “that it were best I took you myself to Master Hall’s house, there to see the maid, and make sure that she shall give you no harm.”
Gertrude indulged herself in a laugh when her aunt had departed.
“Aunt Grena never can bear in mind,” she said, “that you and I, Pan, are above six years old. Why, Christie Hall was a babe in the cradle when I was learning feather-stitch.”
“Laugh not at Aunt Grena, True. She is the best friend we have, and the kindliest.”
“Bless you, Dorrie! I mean her no ill, dear old soul! Only I believe she never was a young maid, and she thinks we never shall be. And I’ll tell you, there was some mistake made in my being the elder of us. It should have been you, for you are the soberer by many a mile.”
Pandora smiled. “I have dwelt with Grandmother five years,” she said.
“Well, and haven’t I dwelt with Aunt Grena well-nigh nineteen years? No, Pan, that’s not the difference. It lieth in the nature of us two. I am a true Roberts, and you take after our mother’s folks.”