“But Jacky says I’m a young lady,” reiterated Lilie; “does Jacky no ken?”
“We will ask mamma when she comes,” said Anne.
The little face became radiant:
“Eh! when mamma comes!—will you be glad too, like Lilie?—and will they a’ be there? Papa and Lawrie? What way do you put your head down? then your eyelashes come upon your cheek, and then you grow like—”
“Like whom, Lilie?”
“My papa. If mamma comes, will they a’ come—papa and Lawrie?”
“Who is Lawrie, Lilie?” The name was a still further corroboration; there was something touching in the exile calling his son by his father’s name.
“Lilie’s brother. He is near as tall as you, and he’s like papa.”
“And you think I am like papa,” said Anne, tremulously.
“Whiles, when you hold down your head, and look sad.”