In a businesslike way she restrapped the black leather suitcase.
“That’s yours now, remember,” she told Caroline, “and the hatbox, and the black hat, and the coat, and my watch here,—don’t forget to wind it!—and those two books, and the vanity bag. Hang on to it! The check for my trunk—your trunk it will be now—and the key to it are there in the little purse.”
“But there’s money in it, too,” protested Caroline. “Oh, Jackie, I can’t take your money.”
“You won’t take much of it,” Jacqueline assured her. “I shall slip three dollars to the porter, and tell him not to give us away.”
Caroline looked at her admiringly. She hadn’t thought of the porter. She felt quite sure that if ever a woman became president of the United States, as she had heard was now possible, Jacqueline would be that woman.
“Now sit down,” bade Jacqueline, and poked Caroline into a seat. “We’re only half an hour from Baring Junction——”
“Oh!” Caroline softly squeaked.
“Don’t oh! We’ve got to get things straight because they may ask questions. Now your father was John Gildersleeve——”
“No, he wasn’t!” protested Caroline.
“You ninny! Don’t you see—you’re me now—Jacqueline Gildersleeve. Your father was John Gildersleeve. He was born and brought up in Longmeadow, and he and Cousin Penelope went to school together. By and by he grew up, and his father and mother died, and he went out to California. He was in the oil business. My mother—I mean, she’s your mother now—was Marion Delane. Her father had a big ranch, with horses and things, and Aunt Edith is her sister. And she died—not Aunt Edith, but my mother that you must call your mother—when my baby brother came, and he died, too, and my father was killed the next autumn in the oil fields. I’ve lived with Aunt Edith ever since, and our place is called Buena Vista—that’s Spanish for Fair View—and first I had governesses, but last year I went to boarding school. Aunt Edith married my new uncle Jimmie Knowlton on the fifth day of June. He’s Colonel Knowlton—he was in the air service—and he took me up twice in his plane, and we did a tailspin—oh, boy! He’s some uncle. But they didn’t want me on their honeymoon—they’ve gone to Alaska—that’s why I’m going to Great-aunt Eunice. She’s wanted me to spend a summer with her for years and years. I don’t believe she likes Aunt Edith much.”