Katy thought this message very politely expressed, but Lilly, when she heard it, tossed her head, and said she “really thought Miss Agnew might let her name alone when she wrote notes.”  Mrs. Page seemed to pity the girls for having to go.  They must, she supposed, as it was a schoolmate; but she feared it would be stupid for them.  The Agnews were queer sort of people, not in society at all.  Mr. Agnew was clever, people said; but, really, she knew very little about the family.  Perhaps it would not do to decline.

Katy and Clover had no idea of declining.  They sent a warm little note of acceptance, and on the appointed day set off bright and early with a good deal of pleasant anticipation.  The vacation had been rather dull at Cousin Olivia’s.  Lilly was a good deal with her own friends, and Mrs. Page with hers; and there never seemed any special place where they might sit, or any thing in particular for then to do.

Louisa’s home was at some distance from Mr. Page’s, and in a less fashionable street.  It looked pleasant and cosy as the girls opened the gate.  There was a small garden in front with gay flower-beds; and on the piazza, which was shaded with vines, sat Mrs. Agnew with a little work-table by her side.  She was a pretty and youthful-looking woman, and her voice and smile made them feel at home immediately.

“There is no need of anybody to introduce you,” she said.  “Lulu has described you so often that I know perfectly well which is Katy and which is Clover.  I am so glad you could come.  Won’t you go right in my bed-room by that long window and take off your things?  Lulu has explained to you that I am lame and never walk, so you won’t think it strange that I do not show you the way.  She will be here in a moment.  She ran upstairs to fetch the baby.”

The girls went into the bed-room.  It was a pretty and unusual-looking apartment.  The furniture was simple as could be, but bed and toilet and windows were curtained and frilled with white, and the walls were covered thick with pictures, photographs, and pen-and-ink sketches, and water-color drawings, unframed most of them, and just pinned up without regularity, so as to give each the best possible light.  It was an odd way of arranging pictures; but Katy liked it, and would gladly have lingered to look at each one, only that she feared Mrs. Agnew would expect them and would think it strange that they did not come back.

Just as they went out again to the piazza, Louisa came running downstairs with her little sister in her arms.

“I was curling her hair,” she explained, “and did not hear you come in.  Daisy, give Katy a kiss.  Now another for Clover.  Isn’t she a darling?” embracing the child rapturously herself, “now isn’t she a little beauty?”