“Going to play with little Anne?” inquired Helen.
“If she’ll let me! Nice kid!” said Kit, shortly, and was gone.
“Don’t mock Kit’s idols. He’s like most quiet and peaceable people; when he’s offended he’s hard to placate, and when he’s disgusted he’s not to be won back. Kit’s tremendously fond of his friends. But I share his pleasure in that precocious innocent, with her delightful combination of normal mischief with abnormal conscientiousness,” warned Miss Carrington.
Kit found all the Berkleys at home, as he had hoped to, with the addition of Joan Paul and her baby.
Little Anne saw him coming and ran shrieking joyously to haul him into the house, as if he would be likely to escape her unless she put forth her best strength.
“Here’s Kit! See, here’s Kit, Motherkins! Kit’s come!” she announced needlessly as she towed him into the room.
Mrs. Berkley arose with her white sewing held in her left hand, and gave her right hand cordially to the young man.
“Very glad to see you,” she said. “I’ve tried to make Anne remember that you are Mr. Carrington, but she loves you too well to retain my instructions.”
“Sure! Because I’m not! I’m Kit, eh, Anne? Your little purring kit, or at least I purr when I see you!” said Kit.
“You’re lovely!” Little Anne sighed enthusiastically over his nonsense.