“Says she:
“‘Oh, never mind de chile; she’s running round de place somew’ere, an’ ’Phia can give her her dinner when she comes in. Tell me what you meant by——’ somefin’ or oder, Lord knows what, honey; but at it dey went, ’spoundin’ and ’splainin’. But where is you been all de live-long day, little Glo’?” demanded the woman.
“Oh, ’Phia! I have had such a happy, happy day!” replied the child.
And then she told the cook all about her visit, adding:
“And granny Lindsay begged me to come ever so often!”
“Yes, honey; mighty good ob de ole woman. I knows her, honey, and has buyed mittens ob her—woolen mittens, which she knitted, honey. But you mustn’t go too often, honey. One fing, you mustn’t be too intimit wid people ob dat low order ob deciety. Not as I am sayin’ but dey may be jes’ as good as we is, in de sight ob de Lord, if dey ’haves deirselves; but still, ’ciety is to be despected. An’ another fing, honey, is, dey can’t deford it; dey can’t, indeed; dey can’t deford to ’tain a little lady on fry chickens an’ sich, werry often.”
Now, the first clause of this speech, concerning caste, slipped through the child’s ears without making the slightest impression, but the second clause, about the expense of her visit to the fisherman’s cottage, fixed her attention.
“Oh, yes, I thought of that; so I told David Lindsay I could not go to-morrow. ’Phia, you are right,” she said, as she ran up stairs. She did not go to the sitting-room to interrupt the tête-à-tête of her aunt and uncle, but up to the attic to hunt for bright pieces in the scrap-bag, singing and dancing as she went.
When she met her relatives at tea that night they did not even think of asking her where she had been. They seemed to take it for granted that she had come in soon after dinner, and had been properly attended by ’Phia.
So the child’s holiday escaped their notice.