Christina's pale cheeks became pink with excitement. She and Dawn rushed at each other, Dawn with such impetus that he brought her to the ground.
Christina was too happy to mind her fall. She clung to Miss Bertha.
"Father is coming home with a mother," she announced, and if Miss Bertha showed no surprise, Dawn was stricken dumb.
Miss Bertha slipped off her tweed cloak, and drew up a chair to the fire. She then took Christina on her lap, and Dawn flung himself down on the hearthrug, rolling himself over on his back, and pillowing his curly head on his arms behind it.
"You haven't got a mother," he remarked with dancing eyes. "You and me are just the same."
"I s'pose mothers can be made," said Christina thoughtfully.
"Yes," said Miss Bertha cheerily, "and a very happy thing it is to have a new mother. I heard the rumour, Childie, so I just ran along to tell you what a good thing it will be."
"What will she do?"
Christina's little face looked anxious with care.
"Perhaps what I am doing now. She will talk to you and love you and take care of you."