“Wait!” called Sandy’s voice behind them when they had gone a little way. “I’m goin’ back wiv you! You said you’d ’dopted me!”
“But we didn’t know your uncle wasn’t poor then,” said Louise. “We can’t take you away from him.”
“You ’dopted me,” said Sandy doggedly, “an’ I’m goin’ wiv you—so there!” And she thrust her wet little hand into Louise’s and trotted along beside them. “Louise—wasn’t there cake in the basket?”
“You have cake at home, dear,” said Louise. But she looked as if she felt a little better. After all, even if an orphan didn’t need adopting, it was a pleasure to find that she liked it.
“Like you best,” insisted Sandy. “Goin’ to stay wiv you. They don’t care!”
“Oh, let’s let her, just for to-day, anyhow!” said Winona. “I don’t believe anybody’ll mind.”
“All right,” said Louise rather as if she wanted to. They got into the boat again, and rowed to camp.
“Sandy,” asked Louise, “what did you mean by saying your father drank? You haven’t any father.”
“Well, I did have,” said Sandy. “And of sourse he did dwink when there was a him. Evvybody does. Little flowers do. My governess said so.”
“Your governess!” said Louise. “Is your uncle rich enough for you to have a governess—and you go trailing round in your underwaist and petticoat!”