Page 56 - An Australian Lassie

He asked Dorothea if she were going away for Christmas and the holidays, and Dorothea shook her golden
head and said, "No; she was going to stay at home."

Whereupon he asked Alma if she wouldn't like to carry her "dearest friend" up the mountains with her, and
Alma went quite pink with delight and said--

"Oh, Father! Oh, Thea dear!"

And Dot raised her pretty shy eyes and said--

"Oh, Alma!" and then looked at Mrs. Montague as if to ask if such happiness was possible.

Mrs. Montague laughed.

"T will write and ask your mother," she said, "but we really can't take 'no.'" And she said it so graciously that
the tears came into Alma's eyes.

"Tt would be too lovely!" said Dot breathlessly.

On Sunday afternoon, just as the evening shadows were stealing out and the daylight was growing grey, Alma
ran into the little blue sitting-room, her great eyes luminous.

"Oh, Thea darling!" she said, and then she stopped in surprise. Only a little while ago Dot had tripped
upstairs, her hair in a golden plait down her back, her dress not so low as her boot-tops by quite three inches.

And now! She was sitting in an easy chair, her dress skirt lowered till it reached the floor, her hair loosely
done up on the top of her head, her blue, blue eyes staring through the windows to the darkening harbour
waters, afar off.

She blushed rosily red when Alma ran in.

"T--T was just thinking," she said.

"What were you thinking of, Thea?" asked Alma, "and what have you done your hair like this for? You do
look so pretty--T wish the girls could see you."

Dot pulled her friend towards her and patted the arm of her chair for her to sit there. Then she leaned her head
upon Alma's shoulder and held one of her hands between her own two.

"T was wishing T were grown-up, really grown-up," she said; "T did my hair up to see how T looked. T tried to
do it like your mother does hers."

Alma stroked her head gently.

"My mother is in love with you," she said. "She has just been saying all sorts of beautiful things about you.
She says she wishes you were her daughter."

"Oh!" said Dot. "Her daughter! How T wish T were!"--and no disloyalty to her own mother was meant. "To
live here always! To be rich! To--- "

She paused. "Oh, Alma," she added, "you are a lucky girl."