"Where's mother?" asked Annis.
"In the parlor, talking to Mr. Lord. You got the calico, Fan? Here, give it to me." Then catching sight of the child's face as she drew near, "Why, what's the matter? what have you been crying about?" she asked in a tone of kindly concern.
"O Milly, I couldn't help it! I don't like to go errands!" cried Fan, bursting into tears again.
Mildred drew the little weeper to her side, wiped away the tears, kissed the wet cheek, and with kindly questioning drew the whole story from her.
"And Mr. Chetwood was laughing at me, I know he was! and I don't want ever to go there any more!" concluded the child, hiding her burning cheeks on Mildred's shoulder.
"Oh! you needn't mind that," Mildred said; "just join in the laugh. That's the way Aunt Wealthy does; and your mistake is very much like some of hers."
"Then I don't care so much, for nobody's nicer than Aunt Wealthy—unless it's mother and father and you."
"You needn't except me. I'm by no means equal to Aunt Wealthy," Mildred said, smiling, and stroking Fan's hair.
Annis had run into the parlor, and they were quite alone.