“Yes, the thing must be explained. I have given what of the story I want known to a reporter this afternoon. After the poor woman has gone, Marguerite will come here to her true home and life.”
“Why, Zay, you must have known her at the school,” said Willard. “It seems she was studying——”
“Oh, they are all on the other side away from the boarders. She was in the study room an hour in the evening, with the smaller girls. We were all at a different table that we had to ourselves. And—somehow, I never saw much of her. I didn’t have to go to Mrs. Boyd for my mending.”
Aunt Kate had put her arm about Zay at the beginning of the story. The mother noted with a pang that there was no real welcome in this daughter’s face. Was it jealousy?
Willard stood between his parents and laid a hand on the shoulder of each.
“Oh,” in a voice freighted with emotion. “I can’t tell you how glad and thankful I am that this sorrow of years is to be turned into such a great all-pervading joy. We will be a perfect family again. Why, it will be the romance of our lives! It almost makes me wish I were not going away. And since you have seen her and are satisfied—mother——”
He stooped to kiss her.
“Oh,” she returned, brokenly, “I want you all to love her, and be patient with Zay. She has always been first so long.”
“I think if I was a girl I’d be wild to have a sister to tell things to—the little things a fellow tells his sweetheart, I suppose, when he has one,” laughing. “Vin and I discuss our gettings along and our hopes and some funny scrapes that boys get into. But girls look at the romantic side. And you can’t think—but I’m proud of this romance. Why, it will be something to tell over to our children, and father’s been a trump, but I think it’s a good deal owing to you. Oh, I hope she is like you.”
The mother smiled as she kissed him.