"She thinks all boys rude and naughty. I'm afraid, missie," said Dorcas. "All, that is to say, excepting your dear papa. But then, of course, she had the bringing up of him in her own way from the beginning."
"Well, I'll ask her, any way," said Griselda, "and if she says I'm not to play with him, I shall think—I know what I shall think of Aunt Grizzel, whether I say it or not."
And the old look of rebellion and discontent settled down again on her rosy face.
"Be careful, missie, now do, there's a dear good girl," said Dorcas anxiously, an hour, later, when Griselda, dressed as usual in her little white muslin frock, was ready to join her aunts at dessert.
But Griselda would not condescend to make any reply.
"Aunt Grizzel," she said suddenly, when she had eaten an orange and three biscuits and drunk half a glass of home-made elder-berry wine,
