“An’ for what we air about to receive, and for what Chet Gormley has already received, let us be truly grateful.”
Carolyn May laughed politely, but she could sympathise with poor Chet. He did look hungry, he was so long and lathlike. So they chatted throughout the meal, and the little girl began to feel better in her mind.
“I think you are lovely, Miss Amanda,” she said as she helped wipe the dishes after the carpenter had gone back to the shop. “I shall always love you. I guess that anybody who ever did love you would keep right on doing so till they died! They just couldn’t help it!”
“Well, now, that is a compliment!” laughed Miss Amanda. “You think if I once made friends I couldn’t lose them?”
“I’m sure they’d always love you—just the same,” repeated Carolyn May earnestly. She had Uncle Joe in mind now. “How could they help doing it? Even if—if they didn’t darest show it.”
“What’s that?” asked Miss Amanda, looking at her curiously.
“Yes, ma’am. Maybe they wouldn’t darest show it,” said the little girl confidently. “But they’d just have to love you. You must be a universal fav’rite, Miss Amanda.”
“Indeed?” said the woman, laughing again, yet with something besides amusement expressed in her countenance. “And how about you, Chicken Little? Aren’t you universally beloved, too?”
“Oh, I don’t expect so, Miss Amanda,” said the child. “I wish I was.”
“Why aren’t you?”