“Maimie, you are happy here. You don’t really want to go to America?” Jack said wistfully.
“No,” she answered. “I am as happy as can be, and I don’t want to go. Only it is hard that I should be a burden on you.”
“If Mary Browne is a burden on anybody, she may come and live at The Gables,” said Aunt Briscoe.
Maimie looked from her to me silently.
“But she is not a burden,” I said. “She is our help and comfort. We really haven’t known how to get along without her this month.”
“Just as you please,” Aunt Briscoe said shortly. “I never press my favours on anybody. Only when you are tired of Mary Browne, you may send her to me.”
Then Aunt Briscoe rose to go away; and Maimie presently gave her a loving kiss, whispering gratitude, I suppose, for I heard the old lady answer, “There’s nothing to make a fuss about.” And when she was gone, Maimie came to my side, and sat down on a low stool, and laid her head on my knee, with a sigh of content.
“Aunt Briscoe is very very kind,” she murmured. “And I should like to hear more about father. But this is home, and no other place can ever be home to me, like it.”
Jack’s face beamed all over, and Cherry smiled, while I said, “We are all glad that you feel it so, Mamie.”