She lifted her face, streaming with tears still, yet quivering with happiness.
“O no, no, no! sorry! no! He hasn’t forgotten me, you see. But oh, Aunt Marion—if he wants me—”
“Maimie, you shan’t go,” cried Jack hoarsely. “Nobody has a right to you now, except us?”
“Suppose Maimie sees what he says, before we go into that question,” I suggested.
“What does he say, Maimie?” cried two or three impatient voices.
“I don’t know. Only I am glad he has written.”
Poor Jack looked most gloomy. He evidently thought the loss of Maimie was becoming certain.
“Perhaps Uncle Churton is coming home,” said Cherry. “Do see, Maimie.”
Maimie heaved a sigh, stood up, and with trembling hands tore open the envelope. Something dropped out, and she stooped for it.
“A bank-note,” she said slowly, putting it into my hands. “That is for you and Uncle Robert.”