"Perhaps another year you may be allowed to study."
"I am afraid not," replied Elizabeth, sadly; "my aunt does not approve of my learning it. I don't know why. She said once that I might, but I was dreadfully bad—so naughty that she had to punish me by not letting me learn to draw and paint, and I do love it so!"
"I am sorry," said Mrs. Brown; "but you do not look as if you could be dreadfully bad."
"Oh, but I am!" replied the little girl, earnestly. "I am terribly curious, for one thing, but I don't think I should be if there were not so many mysteries in our house. Don't you hate mysteries?"
"They are not agreeable things, certainly. Tell me what your name is. I feel sure we shall be friends, and you remind me of some one whom I used to know."
"Oh, do you think so?" cried Elizabeth, going to her side. "I do love friends, and this is the first year I ever had any. My name is Elizabeth Herrick."
"Elizabeth Herrick!" repeated Mrs. Brown, in a low, startled voice. "Where—where do you live?"
"I live in Fourth Street. With my two aunts. What is the matter, Mrs. Brown? Don't you feel well?"
"Yes, dear. It was only a momentary shock. I—I sometimes have them. You live with your aunts, you say? How many aunts have you?"
"Two—Aunt Caroline and Aunt Rebecca."