"It is perfectly awful!" exclaimed Rosanna.
"She says the Captain told her to," said Claire.
"I know she never meant her to go so far," wailed Rosanna. "Well, I shall tell her when I go home, and she will know what to do. Cita never makes a mistake."
"Cita?" said Claire. "That is Spanish."
"Yes," said Rosanna, smiling. "When she married my Uncle Robert she seemed so tiny and so dimply and young to be married to anyone that I told her that I meant to call her Cita. Why, I couldn't say Aunt! And she is Cita. She is dear. That is what it means."
"I know," said Claire. "She is a dear, I can agree with you there. I like her as well as I ever like anyone."
"Don't you love your friends?" asked Rosanna wistfully. This strange green-eyed girl, so cold and so reserved, made her feel sad.
"I have no friends," replied Claire indifferently.
"Well, you will make a lot of friends here in Louisville," Rosanna assured her, smiling.
"No," said Claire. The car stopped before Rosanna's house.