It was a baseless accusation, but I didn't bother to refute it by reminding him of who found Alfred—the originator of all the trouble. He would only have blustered.
"I suppose," I conceded at last, "that if missionaries and their wives can live there, a few months won't hurt Molly. Remind me in the morning, dear, to write a note to your school teacher, and you can take it with you."
"Won't all the other girls be jealous!" she cried. "I told some of them I should probably be going out to Africa in a few weeks time—and they were mad! Kitty Vincent said I was just boasting—and I wanted to fight her. . . ."
For nearly five minutes she continued in this vein.
"You seem to have taken everything for granted, my child," I remarked. "Supposing I had refused? What then?"
"But, Daddy, I knew you wouldn't!"
Gran'pa arose and stretched himself.
"George," he said, "that child's an atavism—a throw-back! She throws back to me. And I'm proud of it! Come and give your poor old great-great-grand-dad a kiss, my dear."
Molly saluted him and told him he wasn't the teeny-weeniest bit old.
"Perhaps you're right . . ." he mused.