“Has Doris a great uncle?” she asked cautiously.
“Yes,” nodded Aunt Jennie, “she has. He’s my uncle, just as Doctor Lewis is your mother’s uncle. His name is Hiram—Uncle Hiram, and he lives on a lovely farm.”
“Could Tony live on the farm, too?” inquired Elizabeth Ann.
“I think he could,” Aunt Jennie answered. “I don’t see any reason why Tony couldn’t go with you.”
And then Uncle Doctor came out and joined them and began to talk. In a very few minutes everything was quite clear to Elizabeth Ann. That was always the way when Uncle Doctor talked to her—he could explain things so plainly, and he didn’t mind dozens of questions, and he always seemed to take it for granted that Elizabeth Ann would be willing and anxious to do as he wanted her to do.
“Doris must have a quiet, unexciting winter, in the open air,” said Uncle Doctor, sitting on the porch railing. “From what you tell me, Jennie, I think Bonnie Susie will be exactly the place for her.”
Elizabeth Ann listened, but did not say anything. “Bonnie Susie” didn’t sound like a farm, did it?
“It won’t hurt Elizabeth Ann, either,” said Uncle Doctor, smiling at that small girl, “to have a winter in the country. Tramping through the snow drifts will give her roses in her cheeks. How are we going to send them?”
“Uncle Hiram has promised to come after them,” explained Aunt Jennie. “He’s delighted at the idea of having company this winter. And I’m so glad you are willing to have Elizabeth Ann go with Doris—she would be so lonely in a strange house, and at a strange school, without her best cousin, as she calls Elizabeth Ann.”
So that was settled. Uncle Doctor and Cousin Nellie and Muffins and Lex drove away an hour later, leaving Elizabeth Ann feeling a little forlorn, for all she had an aunt and half a dozen cousins left. And a cat, too, as Doris, who had dressed and came down to sit in the sunshine, reminded her.