“And we were very glad to find Marion’s child, though I wish I had known it when her mother died. Do you want to keep her at Newton?”
“I think Miss Armitage has some claims,” he returned.
“And I feel as if we ought to make up for our negligence.”
The children were in a little huddle on the corner of the sofa. What was Newton like? A real city?
“Why there are some beautiful long streets and stores and churches and a park and rows of houses built together like this, and schools and trolleys—” 269
“Why it must be a city then?” said Edith. “Has it a mayor and a city hall and a postoffice?”
“It has a mayor and a postoffice and a court house. Mr. Borden used to talk of going there.”
“It is a very old town,” explained the guardian, “dating farther back than the Revolution, yet it was not much of a business center until the last thirty years; but it is very pretty and rather aristocratic.”
“Children,” said their mother, “go and make yourselves ready for dinner.”
“What lovely curly hair,” exclaimed May, half in envy. “I wish mine curled.”