"Yes. She and Mamma were school-friends, and though they never met after leaving school, Mamma was fond of her, and when little No. 4 came, she decided to call her after her old intimate. That silver mug of yours was a present from her."
"Was it? Where does she live?"
"At a place called Inches Mills, in Massachusetts. She's the rich lady of the village, and has a beautiful house and grounds, where she lives all alone by herself. Her letter is written at Niagara. She is going to the Mammoth Cave, and writes to ask if it will be convenient for us to have her stop for a few days on the way. She wants to see her old friend's children, she says, and especially her namesake."
"Oh, dear!" sighed Johnnie, ruffling her short hairs with her fingers. "I wish my curls were longer. What will she think when she sees me?"
"She'll think
"There is a little girl, and she has a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead;
When she is good she is very, very good,
And when she is bad she is horrid—"
said Dr. Carr, laughing. But Johnnie didn't laugh back. Her lip trembled, and she said,—
"I'm not horrid really, am I?"
"Not a bit," replied her father; "you're only a little goose now and then, and I'm such an old gander that I don't mind that a bit."
Johnnie smiled and was comforted. Her thoughts turned to the coming visitor.