Arriving at the house, she went, as usual, into the library without
ringing,--but, not finding the books, proceeded in search of Mrs. Simm.
That notable lady was sitting behind a huge pile of clean clothes,
sorting and mending to her heart's content. She looked up over her
spectacles at Ivy's bright "good morning," and invited her to come in.
Ivy declined, and begged to know if Mrs. Simm had seen her books. To be
sure she had, like the good housekeeper that she was. "You'll find them
in the book-case, second shelf; but, Miss Ivy, I wish you would come
in, for I've had something on my mind that I've felt to tell you this
long while."
Ivy came in, took the seat opposite Mrs. Simm, and waited for her to
speak; but Mrs. Simm seemed to be in no hurry to speak. She dropped her
glasses; Ivy picked them up and handed them to her. She muttered
something about the destructive habits of men, especially in regard to
buttons; and presently, as if determined to come to the subject at
once, abruptly exclaimed,--
"Miss Ivy, you're a real good girl, I know, and as innocent as a lamb.
That's why I'm going to talk to you as I do. I know, if you were my
child, I should want somebody to do the same by you.
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