t the lovely castle!"

"Yaya doesn't yike 'ollid ole castles," she said.

I began to dig a hole. One does these things, I find, for the Saras of
this world, and Sara was for the moment enchanted, but it didn't last
long.

"Yaya's so sirsty," she said. "Yaya wants a 'ponge cake."

"I think you would rather have some milk, darling," I said.

"Yaya's so sirsty," she said in a very sad voice. "Yaya would yike a
'ponge cake!"

"Very well, darling; but don't you want to dig any more?"

"No," she said. "Yaya doesn't yike digging."

Now was that fair?--digging, indeed, when it was the poor aunt who had
been digging all the time. When I told Diana of this she shook her head
and said,-- "Betty, it frightens me. Do you think Sara will grow up that
sort of woman?"

"What sort of woman?"

"Like Polly in Charles Dudley Warner's 'My Summer in a Garden.' You
remember when the husband says, 'Polly, do you know who planted that
squash, or those squashes?'"

"'James, I suppose.'

"'Well, yes, perhaps James did plant them, to a certain extent. But who
hoed them?'

"'We did.'"

"Well, it seems to me," I said, "that she was rather a delightful
person."

"In a book, absolutely delightful. I am only thinking of Sara's husband,
poor man! You see Polly's husband was an American, and that makes all
the difference. You remember I told you of a man I met who in decorating
his house wanted to have red walls as a background to his beautiful
pictures, and his wife wanted to have green. I asked him what he did,
and he said he made a compromise. I said how clever of him, how did he
do it? and he said, 'We had green!' You see, Betty, what an American
husband means!"

"Well, to return to Sara's, you need not worry. I think he will, in
all probability, be in such raptures over the possession of anything
so delicious as Sara promises to be, that he will overlook these little
pluralities on her part."

"Yes, Betty, of course; but does that sort of thing last?"

"You ought to know, to a certain extent."

"Ah! but then David is such a dear."

"I think it is quite likely that Sara will find a dear too."

"I hope so, oh! how I hope so!" said Diana. "I often wonder what it must
be to find you have given your daughter to some one who is unkind to
her. I can hardly imagine so great a sorrow! I dare not even think of
David the day Betty marries. He says he thinks it must be worse for a
father than a mother."

"I wonder," I said. "I thi