“My darling is angry again,” she said feebly. “Who will take care of her and teach her self-control?”
“Diana made me leave my new book,” replied Hilda tearfully. “She held me so tight in her arms that it hurt me, and I could not get loose. Send her away, Aunt Janette, I don’t like her! Please send her away!”
A look of pain came into the sweet face of Mrs. Ashley and she clasped her hands as if in supplication.
“Diana is very tired,” she said after a pause. “She has lost much sleep in the week that I have been ill.”
“I am tired, too, and want my supper,” responded Hilda fretfully.
“Diana will soon have a nice supper for you, and while she is preparing it you can lie down beside me and rest.”
Hilda was willing for this; she pushed a chair to the bedside, and, still clasping the doll in one arm, crept in.
The setting sun glowed ruddily through the western window, and the ticking of the clock upon the mantel, and the purring of the kitten before the smouldering wood fire upon the hearth were the only sounds which broke the stillness of the pleasant room.
“Your father named you Hilda for your sweet, young mother,” said Mrs. Ashley, taking the child’s hand in hers. “He loved his little daughter so tenderly that he gave her her mother’s name. She was lovely in disposition and patient, and I hope my little Hilda will be like her.”
“Where are my father and mother now?”