"Mr. Allen is going abroad for a year, and takes his wife with him," explained Mrs. Carter, "and he wants"—
"Cousin Bess to go too?" interrupted Rob so disconsolately that they all laughed.
"Console yourself, my dear little cousin," said Bess. "He only wants us to take Fred to board."
In his secret heart, Rob thought that was almost as bad. With Fred here all the time, good-by to his pleasant walks and games with his cousin. He was silent, but Bess read his thought.
"Don't worry, Robin, the house is plenty large enough for two boys, and I'll not let Fred cut you out."
Mr. Allen's note was the perfection of tact. He spoke of his invalid son, whose happiest hours were spent with the friend that had done so much to brighten his dark life; he regretted the pressing business which called him abroad just then, but Mrs. Allen's health, much shaken by sorrow for her son, demanded a change and freedom from care. He went on to suggest very delicately that it would be a great accommodation if Fred might board with them; that Mary would be at hand to wait on him, to free them from any restraint, while she could either board with them or come in at certain hours; and, finally, that he should expect them to call on his coachman with perfect freedom, during his absence.
"What do you think of it, Bess?" asked her mother again.
"Why, mother, you must decide. I am not the one."
"Yes, you are," replied her mother, "for it will make more difference to you than to the rest of us. Fred would be largely under your care. Are you strong enough to go through it?"
"I think I am," said Bess slowly. "I should like him here, if you and father don't object. The boy has to learn all over again the very ABC of living, and he has no one to teach him but us. Only, I don't want Mary."