But the summer-time came to an end.
It was a November morning, and Fleda had been doing some of the last jobs in her flower-beds. She was coming in with spirits as bright as her cheeks, when her aunt's attitude and look, more than usually spiritless, suddenly checked them. Fleda gave her a hopeful kiss and asked for the explanation.
"How bright you look, darling!" said her aunt, stroking her cheek.
"Yes, but you don't, aunt Lucy. What has happened?"
"Mary and Jane are going away."
"Going away!--What for?"
"They are tired of the place--don't like it, I suppose."
"Very foolish of them! Well, aunt Lucy, what matter? we can get plenty more in their room."
"Not from the city--not possible; they would not come at this time of year."
"Sure?--Well, then here we can at any rate."