Miss Carlton looked around the wide room anxiously, hopefully.
"He is gone now—to see Mr. James, I think—somebody sick, anyhow. I have been having a serious time with him, Miss Carlton." She dropped the mending and looked at the older, much older woman, with frank, straightforward, innocent eyes. "They call me General, but they never want to do as I say."
"And what is our little General after now?" asked Miss Carlton, smiling. "Shall I help you get it? I do not think he will refuse it, if I ask."
"Oh, you will be like every one else; you will say it is not advisable. But they do not call me General for nothing." Doris straightened her slender shoulders, and looked very domineering. "I have made up my mind. I shall have my way."
"Wouldn't your father give in?" Miss Carlton's voice was mildly surprised. Father Artman withstood Doris very, very seldom indeed.
"Oh, yes, he gave in, of course. That is, he says I shall try it. But I know he thinks I shall tire of it soon. He does not know me, does he? I never give up, do I?"
"Not very often, no," admitted Miss Carlton rather grimly.
"Come and sit down, dear, and let me tell you," said Doris eagerly. "I think it will make you happy too. I am twenty years old, and very, oh, tremendously mature, don't you think so?"
"Well, perhaps," was the doubtful admission.