“Oh, my dear, I cannot expect you to give up a great career for me.”
“What would any sort of a career be without you? Nothing—absolutely nothing! I wouldn’t listen to it for a moment. Where I go there you shall go also.”
“But I am getting too old to travel.”
Aunt Betty’s protest, however, sounded rather feeble.
“Nonsense!” the girl replied. “You were the very life of our camping party, and I’m sure riding in railroad trains is not half so strenuous as speeding forty miles an hour over country roads in an automobile. No objections, now, auntie dear, unless you want me to give up my career before it is begun.”
“No, no, of course, I—”
“Of course you don’t want me to do that. Certainly not. For that very reason, if for no other, you are going to accompany me wherever I go, which means that you may as well start planning that new spring dress, for we will be traveling New Yorkward ere many weeks have passed.”
“Do you think blue would be becoming, dear?”
Dorothy could have laughed outright with delight, when she saw how quickly Aunt Betty became lost in contemplation over what she should wear on the trip.