"I won't," she said, with each stamp of the little foot. "I won't, I won't, I won't!"
And saying "I won't," she did. She sat down at the table and on her pale blue letter paper, wrote:
"Dear Auntie:—Yes, you were right, I guess. I am a cling-to. I want him. I don't care: he's mine and I won't give him up. Tell me how to do it, Auntie, oh, tell me how! Quick, Auntie, quick!"
The answer was not long in coming. "Dearest Little Dolly," wrote Aunt Hester; "of course, I knew you would, and I am glad. As to telling you how—well, that is very simple. Just go to him, Dolly. Go to him (not too soon; wait a while) and just stick around. Your instincts will tell you the rest. Rely on your instincts, Dolly," went on this incorrigible Darwinian. "They are better than your reason, for they are the reason of your mother and grandmother, and all the line of mothers that came before you. They had to be right, Dolly, or they wouldn't have been, and then you wouldn't be. Go to him, and stick around, and do as you feel like doing. In all probability you'll be nice, and humble, and snuggledy, and warm. And then, make—your arrangements. He can't help himself. Nature is on your side. His dice are loaded. Cling, Dolly, cling."
Dolly blushed. "Auntie is horrid," she said. And then, after a while, "But right," she said.