Desiring to change the thought of her little guest, Miss Bayley asked, “What color do you like best, Dixie?”
“I like the first green that comes on the trees down by the creek in spring. It’s like a fairy color with silver on it,” the little girl said.
Miss Bayley nodded. “That would make a pretty silk dress,” she remarked, “but I’d like you to have a cashmere dress, the same gold-brown as your eyes.”
“Me? Oh, I don’t need a new dress, Miss Bayley. I don’t mind buttons down the front the way Carol does.”
The young teacher laughed, saying, as she rose to clear the table, “We shall see what we shall see.”
Dixie was about to assist when the sound of wheels attracted her attention. “Oh, teacher, Miss Bayley,”—the child seemed actually frightened,—“something dreadful must have happened. Here come all the Archers.”
There was a sudden firmness about Josephine Bayley’s pretty mouth, and an expression in her eyes that seemed to say, “Let them come.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE SHEEP-KING DICTATES
Miss Bayley opened the door when she heard an imperative rap thereon.
“Oh, good-afternoon, Mrs. Archer and Mr. Archer,” she said graciously. “Come in, won’t you, and Jessica? You are all acquainted with my little friend, Dixie Martin, and so introductions will not be necessary. Won’t you be seated? This is my most comfortable chair, Mrs. Archer, and Jessica, you will find room over on the window-seat by Dixie.”