"For ever and always?" cried Rachel, patting the necklace lovingly with one hand. "Can I keep 'em just forever? Say, can I?"
"Yes, child"—Miss Parrott's old face smiled in delight at the compact—"they are yours to keep all your life. And now," she added brightly, "I want you to come into the drawing-room, and——"
"What's 'drawing-room'?" demanded Rachel, who felt it was much better for all concerned in a conversation to understand things as they went along.
"Why, that is the parlor," answered Miss Parrott.
"Oh."
"I want to hear you sing, Rachel," cried Miss Parrott longingly. "I can hardly wait, come." She hurried the child along with hasty steps, Rachel skipping by her side.
"I'll sing," she said, "all you want me to. I know lots and lots of things"—until the grand piano in the long, dim drawing-room, not opened for many years, was reached. Then she spun down the middle of the apartment. "I'm going to dance first," she announced, picking out the skirt of her gown on either side. "My, but ain't it dark, here, though!"
XXIV
RACHEL'S FUTURE
When the old brougham drew up in front of the colonial door, Miss Parrott let her hands fall away from the time-stained piano-keys.