“I think you must be making a mistake about us,” said Daisy, who was beginning to grasp the situation. “Who do you think we are?”
“Why, aren’t you the two little Baxter girls? Mrs. Baxter came to call on Mamma yesterday, and she said she would send her two little girls over to play with me, so when I saw you, of course I thought I knew who you were. It doesn’t really make any difference, though, for I’ve never seen the Baxters, and I shall probably like you just as much. You see, Papa has only taken this house for the summer, and we didn’t come till last Monday, so I don’t know any of the children who live here. What are your names, and which house do you live in?”
Daisy was silent, and Dulcie flushed a little as she answered.
“Our name is Smith. I’m Delia Smith, and this is my sister Margaret. We don’t live here, and we—we didn’t exactly come to see you. We’d like to speak to your mother.”
The little girl’s face fell.
“I’m very sorry,” she said, “I hoped you had come to play with me. Mamma has gone to the station with Papa, but she won’t be gone very long. I hope you can wait.”
“We can wait,” said Dulcie. She had taken a fancy to the pretty little girl, and was hoping that her mother might prove as friendly as herself.
The child looked pleased.
“All right,” she said, hospitably, “and while you’re waiting, perhaps you’d like to come and see the rabbits. They’re very cunning, and it’s about time I gave them their breakfast.”
The prospect of feeding rabbits was very alluring, but Dulcie was mindful of the importance of maintaining her dignity. People looking for situations ought not to waste their time on anything so trivial as rabbits.