"I know I am silly," said she; "but, somehow, I can't help it."
"Because you don't go to work the right way," answered Blandina: "but now get your slate, and I will help you over the hard place in your arithmetic lesson, so you cannot make yourself miserable about that."
Percy laughed, and owned that it was foolish to worry herself so about what never might come to pass. Nevertheless, it was not more than a week afterwards, that Blandina and Jenny, coming home from a walk, found Percy on the bed, drowned in tears and sobs, and Flora in vain trying to comfort her.
"What is the matter?" exclaimed both girls at once. "Has Percy heard any bad news from home?"
"I can't make out," said Flora. "It was something in her aunt's letter; but I can't find out what; only that Miss Devine wants her to go away somewhere."
"May I look at the letter, Percy?" asked Blandina, picking it up from the floor. Percy made a strangled sound in the depths of the pillow to which she was confiding her grief, which might pass for an assent, and Blandina began reading the letter.
"I am sure I don't see anything here to cry about," said she, when she had finished it. "Miss Devine tells you that your aunt, Mrs. Ackerman, in New York, wants you to spend your Christmas holidays with her; and Miss Devine thinks you had better do so, as she wants to make a visit to some friends in Millby. What is there so dreadful in that? Is Mrs. Ackerman an ogress, who dines on little girls? Come, tell me, Percy?" she added, sitting down on the bed; "what do you know about this dreadful aunt of yours? What has she ever done to you?"
"She—she—sent me a box of candy—and a doll—and—a stereoscope!" sobbed Percy. "And she is very rich and—and fashionable, and she lives on FIFTH AVENUE!" concluded Percy, bringing out these words as if they formed the climax of all her woes. Neither of the girls could help laughing.
"What a dreadful aunt, to be sure!" said Blandina, "To send you boxes of candy. My aunt in New York never sends me anything but dreadfully stupid and instructive books. But, Percy, all ladies who live on Fifth Avenue are not heathens nor cannibals. I have known some quite respectable people from that part of the city."
Percy giggled rather hysterically among the pillows.