“I think,” she ventured gently, “you must have said something to vex her.”
“Not at all. She tried to vex me. I behaved very properly.”
Flora sighed and shook her head slowly; but she was smiling, too. She was wondering what it really was that had gone wrong. “Possibly you didn’t want to obey her?” she ventured.
The child’s brow puckered. “But why should I want to obey her?”
“Why—because she’s going to be good to you, I’m sure.”
“Well, I mean to be good to her, too—if she’ll let me. And I don’t ask her to obey me.”
“But it’s different. She’s an old lady.”
“Well, I’ve got no patience with old people. It’s all right, just as a part, but there’s no use putting it on all the time.”
“But, dear,” implored Flora, drawing the child within the curve of her arm, “don’t say that! I know you mean to be nice and kind, but truly you don’t understand. We must all grow old some time—even you will get to be old.”
The guest gave deliberate thought to this; then her expression became resolute. “Well, if they ever hang any gray hairs on me they’ll have to catch me when I’m asleep—I’ll tell you that right now.”