"O dear," said poor aunt Louise to her sister, "what shall I do all this long day with three noisy children? I'm afraid some of them will get drowned, or run over, or break their necks. You see if something awful doesn't happen before we get back."
"O, I hope not," replied sister Madge, laughing. "I think there is nothing so very wicked about our little nieces."
"Here is your parasol, auntie," said Prudy, coming back. "I know who I love best of any body in this house, and it ain't the one that's got her bonnet on—it's a-r-n-t, aunt, M-i-g, Madge."
"Well, you ought to love your aunt Mig, all of you," said aunt Louise, laughing, "for I do believe she thinks you children are as lovely as little white rose-buds.—Come, are you all ready? Then run along, and I'll follow after."
"O, I'm so glad I'm alive!" cried little Prudy, hoping on one foot; "I do hope I shall never die!"
"I just mean to be careful, and not get a speck of dirt on my clean apron," whispered Susy to Grace. "Aunt Madge ironed it this morning."
They had such a pleasant walk through the streets of the beautiful village, in the "sunshine, calm and sweet!" Grace thought the trees met overhead just as if they were clasping hands, and playing a game of "King's Cruise" for every body to "march through."
When they had almost reached aunt Martha's house, aunt Louise stopped them, saying,—
"Now, tell me if you are going to be good children, so I shan't be ashamed of you?"
"Why, yes, auntie," said Grace, looking quite grieved and surprised.