“Oh, can’t we come?” said the other two, almost in a breath.
“No, Auntie told me this morning, that I must tell you and the rest of the girls, that it wouldn’t be convenient to have you come, as you have done; you are not stylish enough for Miss Hattie Randolph to associate with, I suppose.”
The girls looked really disappointed. Lucindy was a great favorite, and a leader, fearless and successful in all escapades that required originality and coolness, and her company would be sorely missed. Her aunt had indulged her in all the dress and amusement she could afford, and her companions had always been welcome to visit at the house, but now there was a necessity for her services, and play could not be indulged in so often for the rest of the summer, as the household needed the avails, if not the presence of summer boarders.
“Is she older than we?” asked Carrie.
“No, but she’s lived all her life in the city, and feels above everybody. She and her brother and her mother will just take possession of our piazza and door-yard, and our swing; and I can wash dishes, and sit on the back door-step, and never see a girl from one month’s end to another.” Here Lucindy burst out crying.
“It’s too bad,” said Carrie.
The little Lena, ever fertile in invention, crept near, and putting her arms around Lucindy’s neck, whispered:
“We’ll come to see you on the sly, and we can go down in the fields and have fun, when your Auntie goes out for an afternoon.”
“I wish you would,” said Lucindy. “And I’ll bring down some cake and pickles, and some honey, and we’ll have a pic-nic in spite of Mrs. Randolph!”
This was a solution of the unhappy problem, and it seemed to throw a ray of sunlight slantwise into the gloomy picture of the coming summer.