"So are you, Althea," he said.
"I don't think I am," said Althea. "I've black hair, and my skin is dark. You have nice brown hair, and are whiter than I am."
"Some like dark people best," suggested Dan.
"I don't. I asked auntie to buy me a big cake of soap to wash the brown off, but it wouldn't come."
Dan smiled. He thought the bright, vivacious little face, with the brilliant dark eyes, pretty, though Althea did not.
"You will like to live with Dan, my dear?" said her aunt, inquiringly.
"Yes, if you come, too."
"But I can't."
"Why, not, auntie?"
"I have got to go away—on business."