Finally she rose
and stood in the doorway, looking back at a huddled figure on the
bed.
"Now dry your eyes and be a good girl, and remember what you've
promised," she admonished kindly. "Aunt Phoebe didn't mean to
scold you, honey; she only wants you to feel that you belong
here, and she wants you to like her boys and have them like you.
They've always wanted a sister to pet; and Aunt Phoebe is hoping
you'll not disappoint her. You'll try; won't you, Vadnie?"
"Y--yes," murmured Vadnie meekly from the pillow. "I know you
will." Phoebe looked at her for a moment longer rather
wistfully, and turned away. "I do wish she had some spunk," she
muttered complainingly, not thinking that Evadna might hear her.
"She don't take after the Ramseys none--there wasn't anything
mushy about them that I ever heard of."
"Mushy! MUSHY!" Evadna sat up and stared at nothing at all while
she repeated the word under her breath. "She wants me to be
gentle--she preached gentleness in her letters, and told how her
boys need it, and then--she calls it being MUSHY!"
She reached mechanically for her hair-brush, and fumbled in a
tumbled mass of shining, yellow hair quite as unbelievable in its
way as were her eyes--Grant had shown a faculty for observing
keenly when he called her a Christmas angel--and drew out a half-
dozen hairpins, letting them slide from her lap to the floor.
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