Whether there was a nap or not, neither of the chauffeurs came into sight. Half past two—three—half-past three—four—all ticked themselves away on the old clock. It was very quiet in the front room of the little gray house. The light haze that brooded over the hills seemed also to have veiled the blue eyes at the window. Still, they kept loyal watch.
By and by the child suddenly straightened—the tall young chauffeur was striding down to the garage! It seemed as if the blue eyes must pierce the side of the low building, so eager were they to see inside. Presently the big automobile came out and whizzed past the window.
“Aunt Sophie! Aunt Sophie!” cried the little one joyously, “do come and put on my things! She’ll be here in a minute! The man’s gone round!”
The little plump woman ran in breezily. “What is it, dear?”
“Please bring my things. I don’t want to make her wait. There! they’re coming!”
“No, no, child! That’s only the undertaker.”
“Well, she will be here right off. Do hurry, auntie! The man just went round to get her!” The child leaned forward, to catch the first glimpse of the returning car.
Aunt Sophie stood—unmoved as to feet.
“Better wait,” she said, “till she comes.”
The little one turned to look up into her aunt’s face, and her eagerness nearly faltered.