“Isn’t it perfectly beautiful that I’m going?” the child went on. “There’d be room for you,” she observed wistfully. “Won’t you go if she asks you?”
“No danger of an invitation,” with a short little laugh. Seeing the reflection of her own shadowy thoughts on the small face opposite, she added quickly:—
“I couldn’t go, anyway; I have too much work on hand to go gallivanting off across the country.”
“Too bad you can’t,” was the plaintive regret. “When Sardis gets his car you’ll have to go.”
Aunt Sophie nodded smilingly. “Oh, yes, I’ll go when Sardis has his car.”
“He says he’s going to have one some day,” returned the child, wagging her small head emphatically.
“I don’t doubt he will,” said Aunt Sophie. “He’s got a good many things I never would have believed he’d have. He’s the greatest boy for carrying out whatever he starts on. If he should happen to want to be President, I declare, I d’n’ know but he’d get there.”
The little flower face shone, as it always did when “Brother Sardis” was being praised. For the moment Mrs. Hamilton Garde was utterly forgotten.
Two o’clock came, from the old-fashioned clock on the kitchen shelf sounded two heavy strokes, the little girl at the window feverishly watched the path that led down to the garage; but nobody appeared.
“I guess she’s taking a nap,” were the unspoken words that tried to chase away a wee doubt which for a good many minutes had been pressing its way into the hopeful little heart. “Of course, she’d take a nap before going out again!”