“I would rather be just a little Scotch lassie, than a Yankee Queen,” said Menie, firmly.
There was a laugh, and Menie was indignant at her brothers for joining.
“You mean a president’s wife. We don’t allow queens here—in this free country,” said Mr Snow.
“But it is dreadful that you should hate us so,” said the Squire.
“I like you, and the Judge. And I like Mrs Merle.”
“And is that all?” asked Mr Snow, solemnly.
“I like Emily. And I like you when you don’t vex Graeme.”
“And who else?” asked Mr Greenleaf.
“I like Celestia. She’s nice, and doesna ask questions. And so does Graeme. And Janet says that Celestia is a lady. Don’t you like her?” asked Menie, thinking her friend unresponsive.
“You seem to be good at asking questions yourself, Menie, my woman,” interposed Mrs Nasmyth. “I doubt you should be in your bed by this time.” But Mr Snow caused a diversion from anything so melancholy.