Ida obeyed, walked slowly across the floor, and glanced shyly in the lady's face from under her curls.
"You little beauty!" repeated the stranger, taking the child in her lap.
"Don't touch the lady's bonnet," said Aunt Mary, seeing that her friend began to look annoyed at having her flowers pulled out of place.
"I will! I will!" And Ida gave a rose-bud a sudden jerk which left it in her hand.
The lady put her upon the floor; and Aunt Mary was so mortified that she caught her up and carried her screaming from the room.
"I am sorry, for your sake, I spoke to the child," apologized the visitor; "but she looked so smiling I never thought of her having such a temper."
"I never saw such a passionate girl," murmured Aunt Mary, looking as if she were going to cry, "I always feel as if an avalanche were hanging over my head. Sometimes she's as sweet and loving as a June rose; and, in a moment, her temper is beyond control."
"Is she well governed?"
"It is difficult to know what to do with one of her disposition. Both my brother and his wife are very solicitous concerning her. I wonder often at my sister's patience. She has tried whipping and shutting her in a room by herself; but nothing seems to have any lasting effect. I really think half the cause of Mrs. Kent's nervous headaches may be from anxiety about Ida. Yesterday she tried a new plan—she led the child into her bedroom, and, without taking the least notice of her screams and struggles, began to pray for herself and her little girl."
"And what effect did this have?"