Washington. Where her rose
bushes used to be are planted others, and Mrs. Littell assured the
girls that it was one of the great pleasures of the First Lady of the
Land to gather rose leaves for her potpourri jars and to make a
perfumed unguent for which she was famous among her friends.
"She was a wonderful housekeeper," added Mrs. Littell, smiling at
Libbie, whose momentary resentment had quickly faded, "and a very
fine manager. We are told that she was thoroughly domestic in her
tastes and that she made her husband ideally happy."
Presently Carter came with a hamper of luncheon and their appetites
did full justice to Mammy Lou's dainties. Betty wondered, sitting on
the grass, the Potomac flowing lazily several feet below, whether she
was dreaming and might not wake up to find herself at Bramble Farm
with Mr. Peabody scolding vigorously because something had not gone
to suit him. She often had this odd feeling that her present
happiness could not be real.
This, too, brought the thought of her uncle to her mind, and again
she wondered if she would ever hear from him--if something dreadful
had not happened to him, leaving her almost as much alone in the
world as Bob Henderson.
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