But Sunshine, well disposed as, through Dora's careful suggestions, she had become toward Kitty, was rather alarmed than pleased at the sudden embrace in which she found herself wrapped, and the eager kisses, among which Kitty whispered,—
"O Dolce! do you, do you love poor Kitty a little? You're an angel, and I'm real sorry about the moss; but you can get some more, can't you? I'll help you hunt for it to-morrow while they're gone to walk or ride. They'll be off all day; but we won't mind. Do you love me, Dolly?"
"Yes, I do, Kitty; and I know a place where the moss is so thick, you can't step unless you put your foot on it. But I didn't, 'cause"—
"'Cause what, you darling?"
"'Cause the little creatures that live in the woods come and dance there nights, and they wouldn't like it if it was dirty."
"What creatures? The woodchucks?"
"Why, no, Aunt Kitty! the little girls and boys, or something. They whisper way off among the trees, and dance too, just when the sun sets. Didn't you ever see them skipping in and out among the trees just as far off as you could look?"
"Those are shadows, Dolly; and the whispering in the trees is the wind. You mustn't have so many fancies, child, or by and by you'll get cracked."
"Then you can boil me in milk, just as you did the teacup," murmured
Sunshine, half asleep.
Kitty made no answer, but, smoothing the sheet over the little girl, went to seat herself at the open window.