“Just as much as Cousin Rose is yours,” returned Annis.
“But mamma is so sweet and kind; and—”
“And Aunt Dinsmore isn’t?” laughed Annis. “I don’t think I’d want to call her mother myself or grandmother either.”
“I don’t believe she will ever let anybody call her grandma,” said Elsie.
“Cousin Adelaide’s nice, isn’t she?”
“Yes, indeed! she was, oh so kind and good to me once when I was very sick and papa away! I love her best of all my aunts, Lora next.”
Just then there was a tap at the door and Adelaide came in. “Well, little ones,” she said, in a lively tone. “I have run away from the older people to see what mischief you two are at. Making doll clothes, hey? If I had my thimble here I’d help. As it is I must try to be content to look on and perhaps favor you with a valuable suggestion now and then,” she went on, taking satisfied possession of an easy-chair. “We are all going to stay for dinner, by urgent request of our host and hostess.”
“O Aunt Adie, I’m so glad!” exclaimed Elsie, “for I want you to see my new ponies and phaeton.”
“Yes, Rose told me about them. I shall expect an invitation to drive with you some day. Annis, your younger cousins—Louise, Lora, Walter, and Enna—are expecting the pleasure of calling upon you this afternoon. Lessons prevented this morning. By the way, Elsie, what has become of yours?”
“Papa has given me a holiday for the rest of this week.”