"Fatima!" I exclaimed.

"Yes. I don't dare to trust her with the servants. Mind you
always warm her milk before you give it to her, and don't on any
account let her run out of doors."

I looked at Ismay and Ismay looked at me. We knew we were in for
it. To refuse would mortally offend Aunt Cynthia. Besides, if I
betrayed any unwillingness, Aunt Cynthia would be sure to put it
down to grumpiness over what she had said about Max, and rub it
in for years. But I ventured to ask, "What if anything happens
to her while you are away?"

"It is to prevent that, I'm leaving her with you," said Aunt
Cynthia. "You simply must not let anything happen to her. It
will do you good to have a little responsibility. And you will
have a chance to find out what an adorable creature Fatima really
is. Well, that is all settled. I'll send Fatima out to-morrow."

"You can take care of that horrid Fatima beast yourself," said
Ismay, when the door closed behind Aunt Cynthia. "I won't touch
her with a yard-stick. You had no business to say we'd take
her."

"Did I say we would take her?" I demanded, crossly. "Aunt
Cynthia took our consent for granted. And you know, as well as I
do, we couldn't have refused. So what is the use of being
grouchy?"

"If anything happens to her Aunt Cynthia will hold us