"
Imogen's real name was Elizabeth. She was rather a pretty girl, with a
screwed-up, sentimental mouth, shiny brown hair, and a little round curl
on each of her cheeks. These curls must have been fastened on with glue
or tin tacks, one would think, for they never moved, however much she
laughed or shook her head. Imogen was a bright girl, naturally, but she
had read so many novels that her brain was completely turned. It was
partly this which made her so attractive to Katy, who adored stories,
and thought Imogen was a real heroine of romance.
"Oh no, she doesn't," she replied, hardly able to keep from laughing, at
the idea of Aunt Izzie's being called an "aristocratic relative"--"she
says she shall be my hap--" But here Katy's conscience gave a prick, and
the sentence ended in "um, um, um--" "So you'll come, won't you,
darling? I am so glad!"
"And I!" said Imogen, turning up her eyes theatrically.
From this time on till the end of the week, the children talked of
nothing but Imogen's visit, and the nice time they were going to have.
Before breakfast on Saturday morning, Katy and Clover were at work
building a beautiful bower of asparagus boughs under the trees.
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