Amity grew scarlet to the root of her light hair.
"Oh, grandpapa! Did you really mean it?"
"When you know grandpapa better, my dear, you will know that he never says anything he does not mean. So you think you will like the White Mountains, and perhaps a bit of Lake George, quite as well as the Catskills?"
"Yes, indeed! I always did want to see them near, so much."
"I wish you would learn not to color so at every little thing, Amity," said Miss Julia, a little pettishly: "it is very well for a dark girl, but it does not suit your style. Papa, do you really mean to take the child about with you in that way? Who will take care of her clothes and keep her decent?"
"We must try to do that between us, eh, Amity? Do you think you can do your part?"
"Oh yes, grandpapa!"
"Well, I dare say you can. You are such an old-fashioned little body," said Aunt Julia, getting back her good humor, which indeed was seldom lost long at a time. "I must look over your clothes and see what you need. I suppose a flannel suit and two or three calicos, with a nice frock or two, will be best for the mountains."
"You must settle all that," said the Judge: "only we won't have any finery."
"There is no great room for finery in such mourning as Amity's; and, besides, nobody puts it on children now. When will you set out?"