“But Mrs. Hogan——”
“She—she wouldn’t let me come,” choked Celia. “I asked her. She said I wouldn’t die if I didn’t see you; but I knowed I should die,” added the child, with confidence.
“Oh, my dear!” almost sobbed Dorothy.
“So I comed,” said Celia, blandly smiling upon Dorothy and Tavia. “I hope you and your lady friend are glad to see me, Miss Dorothy?”
“Oh, aren’t we—just!” murmured Tavia, under her breath.
“But I am afraid Mrs. Hogan will punish you,” remarked Dorothy.
“Well,” replied the philosophical infant, “she can’t punish me before I see you—for I see you now, dear Dorothy Dale!” She laughed shrilly, threw her arms about the bigger girl’s neck and clasped her hands tightly.
Tavia was delighted with the cunning little thing; she did not think of how seriously Celia might have to pay for her escapade.
“And to find her way here—all of eight miles!” she cried.
“The Morans is very, very smart,” declared Celia, gravely, repeating what she had evidently heard older people say many times. “And when Jim Bentley turned off the straight road I slipped out of the cart behind, and I axed a man was this the road to the school, and he said yes, and so I comed.”