“But you can’t change your parents. God gives them to you, and you have to keep them,” she laughed.
“Then why didn’t God give me regular parents?”
Ann hastily diverted the youngster’s thoughts into other channels, but she came back to it again and yet again—her desire for “regular parents.”
One of the habits acquired from Jinny was a daily nap. She religiously put herself to bed, after luncheon, and each day upon rising she inspected herself in the glass to see if she was growing prettier.
“I don’t see that it helps much,” she said frequently.
But Ann encouraged her to persevere, partly because she felt that the highly strung child needed the rest, and partly because it was Ann’s only breathing space in the twenty-four hours. Usually she went for a walk, carrying a book under her arm.
One day as she started off on such a ramble Mrs. Bryce sent for her.
“Miss Barnes, would you do me a favour? The dry-cleaner in Rockville has a lace gown of mine which I want to wear this afternoon, when some people are coming to tea. Would you motor over and get it? You could take the imp with you.”
“Isabelle is asleep just now.”