Part 1 (2/2)
Miss Thistledown Flyaway looked up at her sister shyly, out of the corners of her eyes. Grace was now a beautiful young lady of sixteen, and almost as tall as her mother. Flyaway adored her, but there was a growing doubt in her mind whether sister Grace had a right to use the tone of command.
”'Cause I spect she isn't my mamma.”
”Why, Fly, you haven't started yet!”
”I didn't think 'twas best,” responded the child, sulkily, fixing her eyes on the mice, who were dancing whirligigs round the wheel.
”Come here to your best friend, little Topknot,” said Horace. ”Let's take that cage into the green-house, and ask papa to keep it there, because the mice look like water-lilies on long stems.”
Flyaway brightened at once. She knew water-lilies were lovely. Giving Grace a triumphant glance, she danced across the room, and put the cage in Horace's hands, with a smile of trusting love that thrilled his heart.
”Hollis laughs at my mouses, but he don't say, 'Put 'em away,' and, '_Put_ 'em away;' he says, 'Little gee-urls wants to see things as much as anybody else,'” thought she, gratefully.
”Horace,” said Grace, with a curling lip, ”that child is growing up just like you--fond of worms, and bugs, and all such disgusting things.”
Horace smiled. No matter for the scorn in Grace's tone; it pleased him to be compared in any way with his precious little Flyaway.
”Topknot has a spark of sense,” said he, leading her along to the green-house. ”I'll bring her up not to scream at a spider.”
”Now, young lady,” said he, setting the cage on the shelf beside a camellia, and speaking in a low voice, though they were quite alone, ”_can_ you keep a secret?”
”Course I can; What _is_ a _secrid_?”
”Why, it's something you musn't ever tell, Topknot, not to anybody that lives.”
”Then I won't, _cerdily_,--not to mamma, nor papa, nor Gracie.”
”Nor anybody else?”
”No; course not. _Whobody_ else could I? O, 'cept Phibby. There, now, what's the name of it.”
”The name of it is--a secret, and the secret is this--Sure you won't tell any single body, Topknot?”
”No; I said, _whobody_ could I tell? O, 'cept Tinka! There now!”
”Well, the secret is this,” said Horace, laying his forefingers together, and speaking very slowly, in order to prolong the immense delight he felt in watching the little one's eager face. ”You know you've got an aunt Madge?”
”Yes; so've you, too.”
”And she lives in the city of New York.”
”Does she? When'd she go?”
”Why, she has always lived there; ever since she was married.”
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