“If I cannot get what I want,” she said, deliberately, “I will take what I can get.”
“You are going out of your mind,” ejaculated Aimée.
“It does n't matter if I am,” cried the romantic little goose, positively crushing the oracle by breaking down all at once, and flinging herself upon the hearthrug in a burst of tears,—"it does n't matter if I am. Who cares for me?”
CHAPTER XI. ~ IN WHICH COMES A WIND WHICH BLOWS NOBODY GOOD.
THEEE weeks waited the wise one, keeping her eyes on the alert and her small brain busy, but preserving an owl-like silence upon the subject revolving in her mind. But at the end of that time she marched into the parlor one day, attired for a walk, and astonished them all by gravely announcing her intention of going to see Dolly.
“What are you going for?” said Mrs. Phil.
“Rather sudden, is n't it?” commented Mollie.
“I 'm going on business,” returned Aimée, and she buttoned her gloves and took her departure, without enlightening them further.
Arriving at Brabazon Lodge, she found Miss MacDowlas out and Dolly sitting alone in the parlor, with a letter from Griffith in her hand and tears in her eyes.