“Is that so?” laughed the woman. “Well, I’ll take you some day--to-morrow, maybe. Good afternoon, Mrs. Edmonson. Be sure and come early. Seven o’clock sharp on Thursday!” “Oh, Aunt Sophie!” the little girl burst out as soon as the door closed, “did you hear what she said? She’s going to take me to ride! Just think, to-morrow!” “Maybe!” added Aunt Sophie. “Oh, I guess she will!” cried the little one, her wee face aflame with joy. “She _promised_, you know, and everybody always does just what they _promise_. I’ve heard Sardis say lots of times that he’d got to do something, because he’d _promised_. What time do you s’pose we’ll go? As early as this?” The little woman’s lips opened--and shut. She waited. “I’m sure I don’t know,” she said at last. “I wish you were going, too,” the child said wistfully; but Aunt Sophie was silent. The doubt in her kind heart did not reach the wee girl at all. When Aunt Sophie looked at the happy face and sighed, the child was gazing far away into to-morrow afternoon, seeing herself seated among those beautiful, soft cushions and whirling off down the street; whirling away, uphill and down, and out into the land of flowering fields and gay gardens, wide blue lakes and high green hills, running brooks that sang as they went, and deep ravines filled with ferns that never saw the sunshine; whirling on and on to those wonderful delights of which she had seen so little and which Brother Sardis had promised should be hers as soon as she went to live with him. And now it was all coming to-morrow! She ate her supper that night to the whirring of cars, the blare of motor horns, and--yes, the odor of gasoline. She talked about it, too, as she ate, and never noticed that Aunt Sophie was more than ordinarily silent. Next morning, as soon as she awoke, the tiny girl found herself in a strange state of excitement, and contrary to her usual custom she called Aunt Sophie to her bedside. “Hadn’t you better dress me right away, so I’ll be all ready to go when Mrs. Garde comes?” “You needn’t be afraid of her getting here before your breakfast,” laughed Mrs. Edmonson grimly. “She don’t have hers till ten.” “Oh!” exclaimed the little one, “are you sure?” “I ought to know,” the woman replied. “I’ve been there often enough and heard Tilly and Sadie scolding because the breakfast was all dried up waiting for her.” “Anyway,” the child smilingly insisted, “it would save trouble to put on my best clothes now, and then I shouldn’t have to make her wait, no matter when she comes.” “You’re a queer young one to get around things,” Aunt Sophie laughed. Then she brought out a little striped pink gingham frock, snowy white petticoats, and a pair of shiny black shoes none too large for a two-year-old baby, while the little girl in bed watched the preparations with smiles of approval.