"It isn't any consequence, Karlo. She isn't it, and you know she isn't."
"But it is of consequence; for I don't know what it is she isn't.
Please tell me, mousey; won't you?"
"She isn't a tireout, you know she isn't, then. You sha'n't laugh!
Dora, shall Karlo laugh at me? shall he?"
"No, dear, he won't; but you mustn't be a cross little girl if he does. Now run to the house, and tell Aunt Kitty that Karlo has come home, and see if tea is ready."
The child put up her lips for a kiss, bestowed a glance of dignified severity upon the offender, and walked towards the house with measured steps for a little distance; then, with the frolicsome caprice of a kitten, made a little caper in the air, and danced on, singing, in her clear, sweet voice,—"Dear, dear, what can the matter be? Karlo can't stay from here!"
"Funny child!" exclaimed the object of the stave. "A true little woman, with her loves and spites. Who is the letter from, Dolo?"
"Mr. Brown," said Dora, slowly folding it, and rising from her seat under the tree to return to the house.
"Aha! Seems to me the parson is not so attentive as he used to be.
Have you and he fallen out?"
"No, indeed! we are the best of friends; and, in proof of it, this letter is to say he is coming to make a little visit at Outpost, if convenient to us."
"And is it convenient?" asked Karl somewhat curtly.