The guest chamber was still spotless and Molly breathed a sigh of relief. She had had visions of the irrepressible Mildred’s making dolly sheets of the bureau scarf or of putting her black kitten to sleep in the snowy bed. The chubby imp was standing with her back to the window, her hands behind her. Her golden curls made a halo around her charming face, her brown eyes were soft and dreamy and her rosebud mouth looked as though butter would not melt in it.
“Come, darling, and speak to Aunt Nance,” said Molly.
“Ain’t no Aunt Nance!”
“Mildred!”
“Never mind, Molly! Don’t force her. She and I will end by being sweethearts, I am sure,” said Nance laughing.
“Never mind, Dodo will be your sweetheart now,” declared Molly, going through all the agony of motherhood when the offspring refuses to be polite. “You may go to Katy, Mildred,” in a tone as severe as she could make it.
Mildred sidled around, carefully keeping her back to her mother.
“What have you in your hand, darling?”
“Fings!”
“What things?”