Indeed, in her proudest mood, she would have welcomed death rather than
idleness. What was to become of Annie she did not yet see.
Meantime there remained for the child just a year more of the native
farm, with all the varieties of life which had been so dear to her.
Auntie Meg did not spare to put her in mind of the coming change; but
it seemed to Annie so long in coming that it never would come. The
impression was worn off by the daily attempt to deepen it, she gave
herself up to the childish pleasures within her reach, without thinking
of their approaching loss.
CHAPTER V.
And why should Annie think of the future? The future was not: the
present was--and full of delights. If she did not receive much
tenderness from auntie, at least she was not afraid of her. The
pungency of her temper was but as the salt and vinegar which brought
out the true flavour of the other numberless pleasures around her. Were
her excursions far afield, perched aloft on Dowie's shoulder, and
holding on by the top of his head, or clinging to his back with her
arms round his neck, at all the less delightful that auntie was
scolding at home? They would have been less delightful if she had
thought of the future; but she thought only of the present joy; or
rather she took it as it came, and let it play upon her, without
thinking about it at all.
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