'Dear aunty,' said both the children, 'we wouldn't like you to do it if you feel that way.'
But Miss Clotilda was evidently not satisfied.
'She is a simple-minded child, is she not?' she asked in a little. 'Not the kind of child to be discontented with plain ways—our having only one servant, and so on, you know?'
'Of course not,' said Kathleen. 'She would think it all lovely. And, aunty,' she went on, 'it is lovely. You don't know how it all looks to us after school. Everything is so cold and stiff, and—and—not pretty there. And the things to eat here are so delicious; aren't they, Neville? The fruit and the milk and the bread and butter. Oh, aunty!'
'What, my dear?'
'Don't you think you could? What room would Phil have?'
'I was thinking of the one next yours. It is small, but we could make it look nice. There is no dearth of anything in the way of linen and such things in the house. Mrs. Wynne had such beautiful napery—that is the old word for it, you know—and she took such a pride in it. I must show you the linen-room some day, Kathie. I have taken great pleasure in keeping it in perfect order for your mother.'
Again the sad feeling of disappointment.
'Kathie,' said, Neville, a minute or two later when their aunt had left the room, 'I want you to come out with me. You're not going to write to Philippa to-day, are you?
'No,' said Kathleen, 'not to-day. But I should like to send the letter to-morrow, for fear of her leaving her grandmother's. I will write to her this afternoon or this evening. I've lots to tell her—all about the journey, and the funny old farmer, and the carrier's cart.'