“Do you ken my mamma?” said Lilie eagerly. “Did she tell you she was coming?”
“No,” said Anne, “but when she comes, you will take my hand, and say, ‘Mamma, this is my friend;’ will you not, and introduce me to her?”
The child looked brightly up:
“Eh, Lilie will be blythe! blythe!—but if mamma were coming, what would Lilie call you?”
“You would call me aunt,” said Anne, her eyes filling as she looked upon the little face lying on her knee. “Your Aunt Anne that found you out, when you came a little stranger to the Mill.”
Lilie rose to wind her small arms round Anne’s neck.
“But you’re no Lilie’s aunt—I wish you were Lilie’s aunt—then you would take me to live at Merkland.”
“Would you like to live at Merkland, Lilie?”
“Whiles,” said the child; “no in bonnie days like this, but whiles—Jacky says I’m a lady—am I a lady?”
“Not till you are old, like me; you will be a lady then.”