Mary listened to this with great interest.
“I wonder,” she thought, “if my godmother knows the Cooies. Not my Cooies; they’ve only just gone to live there. But she may know some of their relations and friends.”
“In winter, of course,” her aunt went on, “there are scarcely any flowers and plants in most places, but the best of a forest is that there is always something interesting to a botanist—and in sheltered parts it is wonderful how late and how early one can find pretty ‘wood treasures.’ I believe that is one reason why Miss Verity loves Levinside so.”
“I like flowers and ivy and ferny things,” said Mary, “though I don’t know the names of many. But I love alive things best, aunt. I mean alive like us—birds, and squirrels, and rabbits, and dormice.” Her aunt smiled.
“I am afraid the dormice won’t be very alive just now,” she replied. “That’s to say they will be fast asleep. I have heard that they wake up once or twice in the winter, just to have a good stretch and nibble a few nuts, but I don’t know if it is true. You must ask Miss Verity.”
Mary’s eyes sparkled.
“Oh,” she said, “it would be lovely to see them stretching their dear little brown paws! They’d look like baby when he wakes up and is too sleepy to open his eyes, and is all rosy and hot.”
Altogether she felt very happy and interested about her visit—besides looking forward to seeing the Cooies again.
And when the day came, and Pleasance, Miss Verity’s “old-maid” maid arrived, Mary did not feel at all shy or frightened at setting off with her on the short journey. It would indeed have been difficult to feel shy with Pleasance; she had such a very pleasant, cheerful face that Mary could not help thinking how well her name suited her. She was plainly dressed in grey, almost like a quakeress, with net quillings inside her bonnet, but her eyes were bright and her cheeks rosy, and Mary thought that no other kind of dress would suit her as well Auntie seemed very pleased at Mary’s setting off so cheerfully, and kissed her very lovingly, but nurse looked at her almost reproachfully, especially when Twitter set up a sad wail at “Maly’s” going away, in which, after staring at her for a moment or two, before making up his mind, Fritz decided to join.
Mary felt rather unhappy. It does seem sometimes as if one could not please everybody, and after all, she had not asked to go away, and auntie had been glad when she said she would like to go.