lonely here. I just long
for company--I and Juliana--and I thought I was going to have it
today. Cousin Abner came to see me once since I moved here and he said
the girls would come, too, but that was six months ago and they
haven't come yet. But perhaps they will soon. It is always something
to look forward to, you know."

She talked in a sweet, chirpy voice like a bird's. There were pathetic
notes in it, too, as the girls instinctively felt. How very quaint and
sweet and unworldly she was! Mary found herself feeling indignant at
Cousin Abner's girls, whoever they were, for their neglect.

"We are out for a spin on our wheels," said Ida, "and we are very
thirsty. We thought perhaps you would be kind enough to give us a
drink of water."

"Oh, my dear, anything--anything I have is at your service," said the
little lady delightedly. "If you will come in, I will get you some
lemonade."

"I am afraid it is too much trouble," began Mary.

"Oh, no, no," cried the little lady. "It is a pleasure. I love doing
things for people, I wish more of them would come to give me the
chance. I never have any company, and I do so long for it. It's very
lonesome here at Golden Gate. Oh, if you would only stay to tea with
me, it would make me so happy. I am all prepared. I prepare every
Saturday morning, in particular, so that if Cousin Abner's girls did
come, I would be all ready. And when nobody comes, Juliana and I have
to eat everything up ourselves. And that is bad for us--it gives
Juliana indigestion. If you would only stay!"

"We will," agreed Ida promptly. "And we're glad of the chance. We are
both terribly hungry, and it is very good of you to ask us."

"Oh, indeed, it isn't! It's just selfishness in me, that's what it is,
pure selfishness! I want company so much. Come in, my dears, and I
suppose I must introduce myself because you don't know me, do you now?
I'm Miss Sally Temple, and this is Golden Gate Cottage. Dear me, this
_is_ something like living. You are special providences, that you are,
indeed!"

She whisked them through a quaint little parlour, where everything was
as dainty and neat and old-fashioned as herself, and into a spare
bedroom beyond it, to put off their hats.

"Now, just excuse me a minute while I run out and tell Juliana that we
are going to have company to tea. She will be so glad, Juliana will.
Make yourselves at home, my dears."

"Isn't she delicious?" said Mary, when Miss Sally had tripped o