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“I’m so glad, Emily—I’m so glad,” she whispered. “Don’t fret, dear child. I love you already—and New Moon is a nice place, Emily.”

“It has—a pretty name,” said Emily, struggling for self-control. “I’ve—always hoped—I could go with you, Aunt Laura. I think I am going to cry—but it’s not because I’m sorry I’m going there. My manners are not as bad as you may think, Aunt Laura—and I wouldn’t have listened last night if I’d known it was wrong.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” said Aunt Laura.

“But I’m not a Murray, you know.”

Then Aunt Laura said a queer thing—for a Murray.

“Thank heaven for that!” said Aunt Laura.

Cousin Jimmy followed Emily out and overtook her in the little hall. Looking carefully around to ensure privacy, he whispered,

“Your Aunt Laura is a great hand at making an apple turnover, pussy.”

Emily thought apple turnover sounded nice, though she did not know what it was. She whispered back a question which she would never have dared ask Aunt Elizabeth or even Aunt Laura.

“Cousin Jimmy, when they make a cake at New Moon, will they let me scrape out the mixing-bowl and eat the scrapings?”