'I do not want to be a wild, bitter, useless thing,—maybe that is what Mr. Falkirk is afraid of, too.'
'I believe,' said Dr. Maryland, 'that He who made all the varieties in the world, and made men as various, never meant that one should take the form or place of another. If it fills its own, and fills it perfectly, it glorifies Him; and does just what it was meant to do.'
'Not to mention the fact,' said Rollo, 'that Wych Hazel could not conveniently personate a pine tree or Primrose a blackthorn.'
But at the entrance of this gentleman as Privy Counsellor, Wych Hazel withdrew her affairs from public notice; however much inclined to vindicate her power of personating what she liked, especially pine trees. She dropped the subject and took up her bread and butter. And so did Dr. Maryland, for a while; but he eat thoughtfully. There was a pause, during which Primrose was affectionately solicitous over Wych Hazel's cup of tea, and Rollo piled strawberries upon her plate. Tea had been rather neglected.
'And what have you been doing, Hazel, all these past twelve years?' said the doctor, breaking out afresh. 'Twelve years!— it is twelve years. What have you done with them, my dear?'
'I was at school, you know, sir, for a while, and then I had no end of tutors and teachers at home.' She drew a long breath.
'And what are you going to do with the next twelve years?—if you should live so long. What are you going to try to do with them, I mean?'
'I want to try to have a good time, sir.'
'And you will be a queen, and hold your court at Chickaree?'
She laughed—her pretty, free laugh of pleasure.