"Awfully humdrum, you dear old thing! You always were, you know. How is Grannie to-day?" Mittie seldom troubled herself to see the old lady before breakfast, but left such attentions to Joan.
"She doesn't seem very well, and she is rather—depressed. I'm afraid we couldn't possibly both leave her for the whole day—could we?" There was a touch of troubled hesitation in the manner, and Joan sent a quick inquiring glance at the other's face.
"No chance of that. We never do leave her for a whole day; and if we did we should never hear the end of it. But we might surely be off after breakfast, and take our lunch, and come back in time for tea. She might put up with that, I do think. Oh dear me! Why can't old people remember that once upon a time they were young, and didn't like to be tied up tight? But, I suppose, in those days nobody minded. I know I mind now—awfully! I'm just crazy to be off on a spree. What shall we do, Joan? Think of something."
"Mittie, dear——"
"That's right. You've got a notion. Have it out!"
"It isn't—what you think. I have something else to say. A note has come from Mrs. Ferris."
"Well—what then?"
"She wants me—us—to go to her for the day."
Mittie clapped her hands.
"Us! Both of us, do you mean? How lovely! I didn't know she was aware of my existence. Oh, yes, of course, I've seen her lots of times, but she always seems to think I'm a child still. She never asked me there before for a whole day. How are we to go? Will she send for us?"