"What made you think so?" asked Maria.
"Because, if she was, she would kiss me like Lutie Grant's mother does. She always says, 'good morning, daughter,' and kisses her when she goes to school. I wonder what good it does, though," she continued, musingly. "I was never kissed in my life."
"That is one way to love," answered Maria with a smile. "Now will you be a good little girl if I kiss you and love you?"
"Maybe so," was the laconic reply.
Maria put her arms around the child's neck and drew her towards her, imprinting upon her lips a hearty kiss.
"Pshaw! That's nothing!" she replied, disdainfully. "Is that love, Maria?"
"No; it was a kiss. If you loved me, you wouldn't say pshaw! but kiss me as I did you. Now come, let us go to the house. Remember, I have told you a secret about your mother and this will make us friends. You must not tell any one, or even speak about the beautiful lady for Mother would be very angry because I talked about it; and don't forget that you promised to be just as good as you can be, which I am sure will be all right, and by and by we shall all love you. Come!"
"I shan't go! She will want me to wash potatoes, or something, and I won't do it."
"But you promised that you would be a good girl if I would love you, and this is not keeping your promise."
"O you don't love me; you only want me to go home and scour knives, and I don't like to scour knives, and I won't, either."