“But, aunt,” said Dora, coaxingly, “now listen. You must go. I shall tease you, till you let me have my own way about it. I shall lead my naughty boy such a life, if he don’t make you go. I shall make myself so disagreeable⁠—and so will Jip! You’ll wish you had gone, like a good thing, for ever and ever so long, if you don’t go. Besides,” said Dora, putting back her hair, and looking wonderingly at my aunt and me, “why shouldn’t you both go? I am not very ill indeed. Am I?”

“Why, what a question!” cried my aunt.

“What a fancy!” said I.

“Yes! I know I am a silly little thing!” said Dora, slowly looking from one of us to the other, and then putting up her pretty lips to kiss us as she lay upon her couch. “Well, then, you must both go, or I shall not believe you; and then I shall cry!”

I saw, in my aunt’s face, that she began to give way now, and Dora brightened again, as she saw it too.