"That's lavender, miss; we always keep it between the fresh linen." "Well, it's just lovely. Good night, Martha." "Good night, miss," and Martha took the candle and went away, and Ladybird was asleep in ten seconds. CHAPTER IV A FEW QUESTIONS The next morning Ladybird woke early, with a strange feeling of suffocation. The day was warm, and the dimity curtains, the feather bed, and the night-cap all combined to stifle a little girl who was fond of fresh air. She hopped out of bed and ran to the window, the extra length of Martha's long night-dress tripping her feet and flapping against her hands. Throwing open the blinds, she saw that the window opened on a veranda roof, and swinging herself over the sill, she stood delightedly gazing at the spring beauty of Primrose Farm. She was soon joined by Cloppy, who had scrambled out of the feather nest and followed in his young mistress's steps. "Hello, Cloppy-Dog," she cried as she picked him up, "how do you like our new home? I think it is lovely. Let's look in at these windows." There were several along the veranda, each with closed blinds. Ladybird tried them all, but could not open any until she reached the last one. There the blinds flew open at her touch and disclosed an open window with a pair of the ever-recurring dimity curtains tied back with blue ribbons. Ladybird perched herself on the window-sill and surveyed the room. Opposite the window was a curtained bed like the one she had slept in, and as she looked, a night-capped face appeared at the opening and stared at the intruder. Except that the face between the window-curtains was young, and the face between the bed-curtains was old, it was almost like a reflection in a mirror. Ladybird smiled most engagingly and chanted: "Good morning, Aunt Dorinda; I'm sitting in your window." And then, with the little dog still in her arms, she jumped down into the room. "I'll just hop in beside you for a minute," said she, approaching the bed, "'cause my feet are cold--though it's a lovely warm morning. What time do you have breakfast?" As she spoke she snuggled herself, dog and all, into her aunt's bed, and softly patted the old lady's cheek. Miss Dorinda knew she ought to be stern, but it was impossible, with the little childish face framed in its big cap-ruffle looking up into her own, and she said: "About eight o'clock, dearie; are you hungry?" "Yes, 'm; I'm 'most starved. The train was late last night, and I didn't get any supper." "Why, you poor child! There, that's the rising-bell. Run right back to your room and dress; the breakfast-bell will ring in just thirty minutes. Can you be ready?" "In thirty minutes? I should hope so!" said Ladybird, laughing. Gathering up her dog, she stepped through the window and ran along the veranda roof to her own room. Peeping in, she saw Martha staring in dismay at the empty bed.