'You've not thanked me yet.'

"I flung my arms round his starched neck-cloth.

"'You're a darling!' I exclaimed, with an emphatic squeeze.

"'You're another,' he replied, returning the embrace upon my hood.

"With this mutual understanding we parted, and I thought that if Mrs.
Moss were not certain to fulfil my ideal, I should have wished her to
be as nearly like Uncle James as the circumstances of the case would
permit. I watched his yellow waistcoat and waving hands till they
could be seen no longer, and then I settled myself primly upon the
back seat, and ventured upon a shy conciliating promise to be 'very
good.'

"'You're quite welcome to come, child,' said Aunt Harriet; 'but as I
said, there are neither children nor playthings for you.'

"Children or playthings! What did I want with either? I put my arm
through the loop by the window and watched the fields as they came and
vanished, with vacant eyes, and thought of Mrs. Moss. A dozen times
had I gone through the whole scene in my mind before we drove through
the iron gates. I fancied myself in the bare, spacious hall, at which
I had peeped; I seemed to hear a light laugh, and to see the beautiful
face of Mrs. Moss look over the banisters; to hear a rustle, and the
scraping of the stiff brocade, as the pink rosebuds shimmered, and the
green satin shoes peeped out, and tap, tap, tap, the high pink heels
resounded from the shallow stairs.