Anne read it through very slowly, and then, as a bark from below caused her to look out of the window, she began to laugh so heartily that Miss Letty looked up, surprised at her lack of sympathy.
“I can’t help it,” Anne gasped, as she took another peep out of the window. “If your Aunt Marie could only see Hamlet, all shaven and shorn, digging out a mole with Quick and Tip, and looking like an anyhow dog, I’m sure she wouldn’t expect him to go to the show.
“Then, of course, she doesn’t know that you gave Tommy your two brown veils to make a butterfly net, and that you are—well—rather tanned.
“But,” continued Anne, suddenly growing sober, “of course you will be married some day; but surely it will not be to somebody you’ve never seen. It would be very nice to go to Switzerland, though. Oh, Miss Letty, are you really thinking of going, and does it make you sorry to leave us and the dogs—and everything? Miss Jule said that perhaps you might like it here well enough to stay with her always, though it was almost too much to expect, and Mr. Hugh said that it most certainly was; yet I could not help hoping.”
Then two heads were buried in the same pillow, and fifteen and eighteen seemed, as often happened, to be about the same age.
“I can stay here if I wish. Father said that I could choose when I had tried this country for six months, but I think I’m crying because Aunt Marie hurries me so, before I’ve even thought of going. If only—bien, there are several ifs, Diane darling, that you do not understand. Why do you say of course I will marry some day?” asked Miss Letty, raising her head on one hand to peep out of the window at Hamlet, who was giving his “Vive la Republique” barking song.
“Why? Why, because I think it is so much nicer than not being; that is, when one has no mother to leave and is grown up and has to wear their hair up and their dresses down. There is mother, now, do you think that she could possibly be as happy without father and us? Of course I shall not marry, because I couldn’t leave her, but that is different,” said Anne, in a tone of deep conviction.
“Aunt Julie has never married, and I am sure that she is perfectly happy and free. No, I shall be independent like Aunt Julie and keep horses and dogs.”
“Miss Jule is happy and lovely to everybody, but I know that she is often lonely, and as to being independent, as you call it, it was not her plan at all. He died, and he was Mr. Hugh’s oldest brother, ever so much older of course than Mr. Hugh. Mother told us about it once after Tommy asked Miss Jule why she was not married and lived up there all alone when she doesn’t like thunder, because mother always sits in father’s study and holds his hand when the big storms come; not that she’s afraid, oh, no, but you see she’d rather— That’s why, because of his brother (beside both liking dogs), Mr. Hugh is so nice to Miss Jule, exactly the same as if she really was his aunt,” and Anne stopped, quite out of breath; but as Miss Letty had dried her eyes and looked interested, she continued:—
“Dogs sometimes have a great deal to do with people’s marrying each other, that is, I mean beginning it. You see, one day, ever so long ago, father was in New York, and as he was going along the street he heard a dog yelp and cry dreadfully, and then a crowd collected. When he got near by he heard some one say, ‘It’s been run over but, it is only a cur, a policeman’ll soon come along and end it.’