“Oh, pshaw, I don’t want any thanks,” Lucille responded as she finished tucking up her hair. “As long as you are pleased, it’s all right.”
“But I’m serious, Lucille, for you have heaped coals of fire on my head, I’ll have to ’fess that I was not a bit pleasant about waiting on you, because, you see, I had so much to see to with the Pioneer Stunts, the work, and everything, and then—”
“And then,” mimicked Lucille with a mischievous glint in her eyes, “I’m an awful cross patient; is that it? But it’s all right, Nat, turn about is fair play, and if you had felt as badly as I did those few days, to miss it all, the anticipated good times at Bessie’s, well, you would have been cross, too.”
“Oh, I know it, and I was worse than you were, for I should have possessed my soul in patience, but it was perfectly dear of you to give me the uniform, and then to be so nice about it.”
“Well, I’m glad I’m nice,” teased her cousin, “but run along, child, for I have about forty-seven letters to get off by this mail.”
And Nathalie, with a heart brimful of joy at the many surprises of the day, was very glad to hurry away and talk matters over with her mother.
“What shall I talk to Nita about?” she lamented the next morning as she flew hither and thither, getting her work done in a jiffy so that she could reach the gray house by ten-thirty, the hour set for the talk with the princess, as Nathalie delighted to call her.
“Mother, can’t you suggest something?” she asked dolefully as she stooped to kiss her mother good-by. “I do feel that it will not be right for me to take money for just chattering nonsense, and Nita won’t let me tell her stories.”
“Well, it does seem as if it was undue extravagance, but still, if Mrs. Van Vorst thinks you are worth paying in order to help make her child’s life more enjoyable, it seems to me I should not worry about it.”
“Yes, I know, but if I could only tell her stories,” rejoined the girl, “perhaps I could help her more, for I could make my stories instructive, about nature, history, or—”