"Yes--sad, you know."
"My goodness! What makes you sad?"
But Missy couldn't answer that. Unexpected questions often bring
unexpected answers, and not till after she'd made use of the
effective new word, did Missy pause to ponder whether she was really
sad or not. But, now, she couldn't very well admit her lack of the
emotion, so she repeated the pensive glance.
"Does one ever know why one's sad?" she asked in a bewitchingly
appealing tone. .
"Well, I imagine that sometimes one dees," put in Aunt Nettie,
drily.
Missy ignored Aunt Nettie; often it was best to ignore Aunt Nettie--
she was mother's old-maid sister, and she "understood" even less
than mother did.
Luckily just then, Marguerite, the coloured hired girl, came to
clear off the table. Missy regarded her capable but undistinguished
figure.
"I wish they had butlers in Cherryvale," she observed, incautious
again.
"Butlers!--for mercy's sake!" ejaculated Aunt Nettie.
"What books have you got out from the library now, Missy?" asked
father. It was an abrupt change of topic, but Missy was glad of the
chance to turn from Aunt Nettie's derisive smile.
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