"This little boy and this little girl have had their breakfast," said Mrs. Desart. "Run off, Carrots and Floss, you are both to have a whole holiday you know, so Sybil will see plenty of you."
"I wish they could see more of each other," said auntie, as the children left the room. "Some time you must let them both come and pay us a long visit, when we are really settled you know."
Auntie gave a little sigh as she said this—she felt so tender and kind to Carrots and Floss, and something made her a little sorry for them. Though they were healthy, happy-looking children, and their dress was neat and cared for, they did not look like her Sybil, whose clothes were always like those of a little princess. Floss's frock was rather faded-looking, and there was a mark where it had been let down, and Carrots' brown holland blouse had arrived at a very whitey-brown shade, through much wear and washing.
"It must be hard work with so many children, and such small means," she thought to herself, for auntie had been married young to a rich man, and knew little of "making both ends meet," but aloud she only said, "how lovely little Fabian would look in black velvet, Lucy! What a complexion he has!"
"Yes, if you can forgive him his hair," said Mrs. Desart.
"I think his hair is beautiful," observed Sybil, and then went on eating her breakfast.
They all laughed, but there was still a little sigh at the bottom of auntie's heart. There was reason for it greater than the sight of her little nephew's and niece's shabby clothes.
But there was no sigh in the hearts of Floss and Carrots.
"Carrots," said Floss, as they made their way to the nursery to decide which of their small collection of toys were fit for Sybil's inspection, "Carrots, did you hear."
"What auntie said?" asked Carrots. "Yes, I heard. Do you think mamma will ever let us go?"