“I don’t suppose you do,” she admitted. “You are generally a very well-behaved child, I will say that for you, Gretel. You have been much less trouble than I expected you to be when I consented to take charge of you.”
“Have I really?” inquired Gretel, her face brightening; “but what made you take me when you thought I was going to be so much trouble?”
Mrs. Marsh frowned.
“You talk too much, Gretel,” she said reprovingly; “little girls should not ask so many questions. I have always tried to do what I have felt to be my duty. Now I hope I have said all that is necessary on this subject. If I see an improvement in your manner I shall know that my little talk has not been in vain. Ada and I like to see happy faces about us, and I am sure that if any child in this world should be happy you should. I wonder how many little girls of your age are having a lovely long holiday right in the middle of the school year? By the way, I had a letter from my sister this morning, in which she tells me that her friend has decided to remain in California longer than she at first expected. They will not be back before the middle of April.”
Gretel did not look as much pleased at this news as Mrs. Marsh evidently expected.
“I’m rather sorry,” she said. “I like Miss Talcott, and she was so very kind about letting me play on her piano. I don’t mind lessons much; I used to love them when Father taught me. But I will try not to be sullen, Mrs. Marsh; I really didn’t know I was.”
“That is right,” said Mrs. Marsh, in a tone of relief. “Now we have discussed this matter quite enough, and I must hurry. Are you going out this afternoon?”
“Ada wants me to take her new dress back to the dressmaker’s. Something has to be done to the skirt, and she’s going to stop and try it on on her way home, but she doesn’t want to carry the box herself, it’s so heavy.”
“Very well; the walk will do you good, but don’t stay out too long. It isn’t at all the proper thing for little girls to be in the streets after it begins to grow dark.”
Gretel promised that she would be in the house before dark, and Mrs. Marsh departed, feeling that she had done all that was necessary in the way of “administering a gentle reproof.”