M’ri visited the bedside of each of her charges that night. Jud and Janey were in the land of dreams, but David was awake, expecting her coming. There was a new tenderness in her good-night kiss.
“Aunt M’ri,” asked the boy, looking up with his deep, searching eyes and a suspicion of a smile about his lips, “did you and Judge Thorne talk over my education? He said that he was going to speak to you about it.”
Her eyes sparkled.
“David, the Judge is coming to dinner Sunday. We will talk it over with you then.”
“Aunt M’ri,” a little note of wistfulness chasing the bantering look from his eyes, “you aren’t going to leave us now?”
“Not for a year, David,” she said, a soft flush coming to her face.
“He’s waited seven,” thought David, “so one more won’t make so much difference. Anyway, we need a year to get used to it.”
After all, David was only a boy. His flights 98 of romantic fancy vanished in remembrance of the blissful certainty that there would be ice cream for dinner on Sunday next and on many Sundays thereafter. 99
CHAPTER IX
The little trickle of uneven days was broken one morning by a message which was brought by the “hired man from Randall’s.”