“I know who she means,” spoke Mrs. Patience. “It is the boy who came here last summer that Aunt Maria Ames took such a fancy to, and asked him if he hadn’t a sister to live with her. I think,” to her mother, “you and Grandmother were away that day. Don’t you remember, Silence, you mended his coat for him?”
By this time Posey had found her tongue. “Yes,” she hastened to add, “Ben said you did. He said he knew you were the best kind of Christians.”
Mrs. Blossom smiled. “I hope Ben was right, though that seems to have been a case of judging faith by works.”
“Well, Ben Pancost knows,” asserted Posey stoutly.
“He certainly impressed me as a very good boy,” said Miss Silence, “truthful, frank, and manly. And so you wanted to come and live with Mrs. Ames?”
“Yes, ma’am, Ben was almost sure she would let me.”
“That is too bad, for she has gone to Chicago to spend the winter with her daughter.”
Posey’s face clouded with dismay. She had trusted implicitly to Ben. What should she do if his plan for her failed?
Mrs. Blossom saw the look. “What is your name?” she asked.
“Posey.”